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PRINCETON,     N.     J. 

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J7 


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This  edition,  on  Large  Paper,  consisting 
of  1 10  copies,  was  printed  in  the  month 
of  March,,  1892. 


This  Copy  is  No.. 


A  HIGHLAND  CHRONICLE 


BY 

S.  BAYARD  DOD 

AUTHOR   OF   "STUBBLE  OR  WHEAT  : 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,   MEAD   &   COMPANY 


Copyright,  1892, 

BY 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 
All  rights  reserved. 


PREFACE. 


IN  one  of  those  spare  hours  which  the  great-hearted 
Edinburgh  doctor  snatched  from  his  sacred 
duties  as  healer  of  men,  to  give  us  glimpses  of  the 
breadth  and  depth  of  his  own  nature,  and  show  us 
some  lessons  to  be  had  from  men  and  books,  he  gives 
the  outline  of  this  tale;  and  suggests  that  here  is 
material  for  a  wholesome  and  pleasant  story. 

If  he  who  drew  the  outline  could  have  filled  in  the 
details,  we  all  know  how  the  story  would  have  dis- 
tilled strong  and  sweet. 

It  would  be  pleasant  to  think  that  the  readers  of 
this  book  would  concur  in  the  good  doctor's  senti- 
ment, that  "we  are  the  better  of  stirring  ourselves 
about  these  the  unknown  and  long  time  dead." 

Crow  Hill, 

East  Orange,  N.  J.,  1891. 


CONTENTS. 


I.    "A  Douce  Bairn  Maunna  Forget  his 

Forbears,"        .        .       .       .       .        .        i 

II.    "A  Fair  Swap  has  a  Sonsie  Lave,"    .  22 

III.  "Far  frae  Court,  far  frae  Care,"        .      38 

IV.  "  A  Horn  Spoon  Hauds  nae  Poison,"  56 
V.    "  Remember,  Man,  and  Keep  in  Mind,  A 

Faitkfu'  Friend  is  Hard  to  Find,"      79 
VI.    "The  Reek  o'  my  ain  House  *6  Better 

than  the  Fire  o'  my  Neebor's,"        .     102 
VII.    "  There  is  nae  Sport  where  there  is 

neither  Auld  Folk  nor  Bairns,"     .     116 
VIII.    "  Ye  hae  Tied  a  Knot  wi'  your  Tongue 
that    ye    canna     undo    wi'    your 

Teeth," 139 

IX.    "  There's  a  Time  to  Gley,  and  a  Time 

to  Look  Straight,"       .        .        .        .153 
X.    "  Ye  Live  on  Love,  as  Laverocks  do  on 

Leeks," 190 

XI.    "  Kings   and    Bears   aft  Worry  their 

Keepers," 218 

XII.    "  All  O'ers  are   III,  Except  O'er  the 

Water  and  O'er  the  Hill,"   .        .        250 
XIII.    "Every    Man    Bows    to    the    Bush    he 

Gets  Bield  Frae,"          .        .        .        .271 


A  HIGHLAND  CHRONICLE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"a  douce  bairn  maunna  forget  his  forbears." 

JAMES  MUIR,  third  Laird  of  Stoneywold  in  the 
shire  of  Aberdeen,  was  born  September  29,  17 10. 

With  this  averment  our  story  begins.  And  is  it  not 
a  fair  prologue  to  a  tale?  In  the  first  place,  it  is  the 
plain,  honest  truth ;  with  which  it  is  well  to  begin  and 
to  end.  Secondly,  Nature  points  to  it  as  a  suitable 
beginning,  inasmuch  as  for  us  the  world  begins  on 
the  day  of  our  birth,  and  ceases  to  be  when  we  leave 
it  behind  us.  After  this  manner  the  artists  who  have 
portrayed  life  are  wont  to  open  their  story,  as  witness 
the  ancient  nursery  rhyme  of  the  seven-day  life  of  the 
man  "born  on  Monday,"  and  the  "Seven  Ages"  of 
the  great  bard  which  takes  a  like  starting  point. 

Yet  back  of  this  beginning  lies  a  story ;  at  least  for 
all  men  except  that  paradoxical  old  Eastern  king, 
Melchizedek,  who  looms  unborn  out  of  the  primeval 
mist,  without  beginning  of  days,  without  father  or 
mother,  without  descent;  but  he  was  an  orphan  siri 
generis.  For  the  rest  of  us  there  is  the  unlooked-for 
accident  of  birth,  which,  if  it  does  not  befall  us,  there 


2  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

is  nothing  more  to  be  said;  but  if  we  meet  with  this 
adventure,  we  are  bound  to  account  for  it;  as  it  will 
not  submit  to  be  classed  among  those  facts  of  science 
which  are,  but  how  or  why  they  are  we  cannot  tell. 

James  Muir  knew  who  his  grandfather  was,  and  had 
the  benefit  of  a  personal  acquaintance  with  this  sturdy 
progenitor.  An  introduction  to  this  old  laird  will  tell 
us  how  his  grandson  came  to  be  the  Laird  of  Stoney- 
wold,  a  fair  estate  of  some  three  thousand  acres  on 
the  north  bank  of  the  River  Don,  in  the  shire  of  Aber- 
deen. 

Robert  Muir,  the  grandfather  of  James,  owned  a  fine 
estate,  on  the  Ythan,  near  Ellon,  called  Heatherside, 
with  rich  pasture  fields  well  drained  and  cultured  and 
a  house,  which,  for  three  generations,  the  family  had 
been  fashioning  to  suit  their  taste  and  comfort.  Hav- 
ing grown  up  with  the  family,  the  Hall  was  a  part  of 
their  life,  and  none  of  the  Muirs  seemed,  in  true  fash- 
ion, to  have  wedded  unless  they  went  from  the  home- 
stead to  the  village  kirk  near  by,  and  returned  to  the 
wedding  feast  under  the  old  roof  tree. 

The  Laird  of  Ellon,  though  at  all  times  a  strict 
adherent  of  the  Kirk  and  firm  in  the  orthodox  belief, 
which  he  had  inherited  along  with  his  estate,  was  nev- 
ertheless so  far  amenable  to  the  manners  of  his  time 
that  he  did  not  disdain  to  drink  a  bout  with  gentlemen 
of  his  own  estate,  nor  was  he  loath  to  crack  more  than 
one  bottle  when  occasion  served;  and  while  he  was 
no  drunken  reveler  he  was  merry  in  his  cups,  and 
esteemed  that  his  orthodoxy  was  not  impugned 
thereby.  When  his  blood  was  once  warm  with  wine 
he  was  free  with  his  tongue  and  free  with  his  money ; 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  3 

and,  though  he  counted  this  no  harm,  he  paid  dear 
for  his  whistle,  as  often  happens  with  those  who,  hav- 
ing let  their  brains  be  stolen,  as  the  poet  puts  it,  have 
to  depend  only  on  their  luck. 

The  Laird  of  Ellon  had  been  attending  a  country 
fair  at  Old  Meldrum  ;  his  cattle  having  fetched  a  good 
price,  he,  being  well  to  the  fore  with  his  silver,  had 
joined  a  party  of  gentlemen  at  the  Leslie  Arms,  the 
old  inn  that  stands  by  the  road  to  Inverurie;  and, 
when  they  fell  to  twitting  the  Laird,  after  dinner,  he 
stood  his  ground  to  his  cost. 

"Ye  canna  snowk  a  fairer  beastie  in  a'  Aberdeen- 
shire than  yon  red  bullock  frae  the  haughs  o'  Ellon," 
said  Muir. 

To  which  Leslie  of  Keith  Hall  made  answer,  "Aye, 
the  bullock  is  fine  and  weel-faured,  but  the  herd  is 
bonnie  sraa'.  The  beasties  hae  eaten  their  fill  o' 
fodder,  for  there  is  scarce  ane  bullock  to  the  acre." 

"Perhaps  my  Laird  of  Ellon  is  loath  to  put  his  cat- 
tle on  sale  lest  he  find  himself  in  the  case  of  a  man 
who,  having  aince  said  a  guid  thing,  hauds  his  mouth, 
for  fear  that  further  speech  may  bewray  him  for  a 
fool,"  said  William  Gordon,  a  wealthy  merchant  of 
Edinburgh. 

This  Gordon  had  grown  rich  over  the  counter  of 
his  Edinburgh  shop,  and  had  the  instincts  of  the 
tradesman.  He  had,  too,  a  sense  of  degradation  in 
regard  to  his  calling  in  life,  born,  perchance,  of  the 
way  that  he  had  practiced  it.  It  was  his  ambition  to 
become  a  landed  proprietor,  on  such  a  scale  as  would 
entitle  his  holding  to  be  called  a  barony  and  himself 
to  be  saluted  as  '  'My  Laird. ' '     He  was  shrewd  enough 


4  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

to  seek  the  realization  of  this  ambition  far  away  from 
the  circle  of  his  reputation,  where  a  better  bargain 
might  be  made,  and  the  limitations  which  a  man  often 
puts  upon  himself  would  not  hamper  him.  With  this 
view  he  had  come  to  Aberdeen,  and  made  his  visit 
yield  him  both  pleasure  and  profit  by  some  trifling 
barter  with  the  merchants  of  that  good  old  town,  and 
spent  the  intervals  between  these  little  transactions  in 
searching  through  the  shire  for  an  estate  suited  to  the 
measure  of  himself  as  a  man  and  a  gentleman. 

The  Ellon  estate  pleased  him  well;  but  he  never 
hinted  his  appreciation  of  its  loveliness  nor  his  thought 
of  becoming  a  landed  proprietor;  but  walked  over  the 
broad  acres  listening  to  the  Laird  as  he  proudly  re- 
counted their  value  in  words  that  sank  into  Gordon's 
heart.  He  talked  fences  and  drains,  crops  and  cattle, 
with  the  Laird,  who  came  to  esteem  this  Edinburgh 
merchant  a  most  companionable  man,  and  even  sug- 
gested to  Gordon  that  his  nature  and  tastes  fitted  him 
for  the  life  of  a  country  gentleman ;  and  at  his  time 
of  life  it  was  well  to  withdraw  from  the  turmoil  of 
trade  and  take  up  the  life  at  which  God  first  set  men, 
which  had  all  the  charm  and  dignity  befitting  the  riper 
years  of  a  man.  He  advised  Gordon  to  buy  land  and 
settle  down  to  this  noble  calling  and  grow  mellow  in 
the  quiet,  pure  atmosphere  of  the  life  of  a  country 
gentleman. 

Gordon  deprecated  his  fitness  to  fill  the  measure  of 
the  Laird's  generous  description  of  the  just  and  happy 
landlord,  honored  by  his  tenantry,  at  peace  with  him- 
self and  with  his  God.  Now,  however,  he  saw  an  op- 
portunity,  which,  if  rightly  used,  might  be  the  for- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  5 

tunate  turn  of  the  tide.  His  entering  wedge  was  to 
twit  the  Laird  of  Ellon  as  a  timid  greenhorn,  who 
could  raise  cattle  by  letting  them  browse  over  his 
broad  acres,  but  feared  to  bring  them  to  market  lest 
the  shrewd  traders  should  play  him  for  a  gudgeon. 

It  was  a  quiet  taunt,  but  it  stung  the  Laird,  who 
prided  himself  on  being  a  judge  of  horses  and  cattle, 
safe  to  buy  or  sell  on  the  hoof  with  any  man  in  Scot- 
land, be  he  from  Highland  or  Lowland;  and  the 
bonds  of  his  tongue  and  temper  were  relaxed  by  the 
wine. 

"How  now,  Maister  Gordon,"  he  said,  and  the  ac- 
cent on  the  "Maister"  stung  the  broadcloth  man;  "ye 
think  that  I  ken  nae  mair  how  to  sell  my  cattle  than 
do  ye  to  spin  the  claith  that  ye  sell  ower  yer  ain  coun- 
ter. But  I  tell  ye,  man,  there  is  nane  in  Scotland,  far 
or  near,  that  can  warst  me  at  a  bargain  on  the  hoof, 
forbye  the  deil  himsel',  and  wi'  him  I  am  canty  enow 
to  eschew  all  dealin'.  I  can  tell  ye  to  a  pound  the 
weight  of  neat-cattle  on  the  hoof;  I'll  tell  to  a  hair 
what  the  hide  will  fetch ;  and  to  a  penny  the  price  of 
the  carcass;  and  to  a  ha'penny  what  neat  land  will 
rent  for." 

There  was  a  clink  of  glasses  and  a  call  for  more 
wine  to  toast  the  brave  Laird  of  Ellon.  This  was  a 
very  gratifying  exhibition  of  the  sympathy  of  the 
merry  gentlemen,  but  it  did  not  serve  to  help  the 
Laird's  wits  to  encounter  the  crafty  merchant.  None 
drank  his  health  more  cheerily  than  Gordon ;  none 
applauded  more  heartily  the  Laird's  swaggering  boast. 

Never  again  might  there  come  such  an  opportunity 
to  catch  the  Laird  in  this  mood,  and  before  gentlemen 


6  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

too.  So  he  took  the  applause  (aimed  in  part  at  him- 
self he  knew)  in  good  part  and  plied  the  gentlemen 
with  liquor,  while  he  drank  sparingly.  He  took  care 
to  keep  the  talk  in  the  same  channel,  where  the  price 
of  cattle,  woodland,  pastures,  houses,  and  estates 
were  the  theme,  and  bantering  jests,  stories  of  horse 
trades  and  shrewd  bargains  went  the  round  of  the 
table;  while  he  sat  silent  in  the  attitude  of  one  being 
initiated.  Having  bided  his  time,  he  threw  out  the 
bait. 

"My  Laird  of  Ellon,  perchance,  would  hardly  daur 
to  name  a  price  for  his  whole  herd,  granted  that  he 
knows  how  many  his  herd  contains." 

"Faith,  man,  do  ye  tak'  me  for  a  bairn  or  a  green 
gillie  at  a  maister's  biddin'.  I  am  Laird  o'  my  land 
and  ken  every  foot  o'  it,  and  every  hoof  o'  my  herd, 
every  hoof  for  a  ten  mile  round.  I  daur  name  ye  a 
price  for  my  herd  and  house  and  lands  and  a1  my 
gear,  were  ye  man  enow  to  tak'  them  at  the  price  I 
wad  name." 

"Aye,  my  Laird,"  answered  the  cunning  tradesman, 
"a  man  daurs  use  bonnie  free  speech  to  mak'  a  bar- 
gain that  he  can  break  wi'  a  word.  But  the  glint  of 
the  arle-penny  that  holds  him  to  his  bargain  is  like  to 
•sober  his  speech  somewhat." 

"Show  me  your  gowd  or  siller,"  said  Muir,  goaded 
to  extremity,  in  order  to  show  his  mettle,  and  rout 
this  four  and  twenty  tailors  all  in  one,  this  broadcloth 
peddler.  "Cross  my  hand  wi'  your  siller,  or  haud 
your  tongue." 

Gordon  bit  his  lips  and  turned  pal,e,  but  did  not 
lose  his  self-command. 


A  HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  7 

"Nay,  my  Laird,"  he  said,  in  a  soft,  insinuating, 
maddening  tone,  "God  forbid  that  I  should  tak'  ad- 
vantage o'  a  gentleman  wha  is  in  no  state  to  barter 
lands  or  onything,  and  wha  couldna  name  a  price  for 
a  brace  o'  moorfowl  and  bide  by  it  on  the  morrow." 

"By  what  token,"  replied  Ellon  hotly,  "do  ye  learn 
to  measure  a  gentleman  as  ye  mete  out  yourclaith? 
I  can  match  ye  at  quarter-staff,  and  I  can  buy  or  sell, 
as  your  humor  suits.     So  down  wi'  your  siller." 

"But,  my  Laird,"  said  the  smooth,  imperturbable 
Gordon.     "Ye  havena  laid  a  price  on  your  land." 

Before  Muir  could  answer,  some  of  the  gentlemen, 
alarmed  at  his  reckless  mood,  interfered  to  stop  the 
play,  which,  as  a  farce,  it  amused  them  to  foster,  but 
which  would  turn  out  a  sorry  tragedy  if  the  Gordons 
supplanted  the  Muirs  on  the  Ellon  estate.  It  had 
gone  so  far  now  that  it  must  be  played  to  the  end,  and 
they  must  explain,  as  best  they  could,  their  share  in  it, 
when  it  was  known  through  all  the  countryside  who 
they  were  whose  presence  gave  binding  sanction  to 
this  uncanny  bargain. 

Gordon  made  no  objection  to  their  interference; 
with  a  cold,  sneering  smile  he  looked  at  Ellon,  across 
the  table,  while  the  gentlemen  gathered  about  him 
and  tried  to  silence  or  lead  him  from  the  room. 

Muir  stretched  out  his  hand  across  the  table;  Les- 
lie beat  it  down  and  Montross  caught  it  and  held  it 
firmly  in  his  two  hands.  Gordon  looked  on  with  his 
set,  sneering  smile,  which  seemed  to  glitter  also  in  his 
steel-gray  eye,  and  stroked  his  beard  with  an  easy, 
meditative  motion,  his  elbow  resting  on  the  table. 

The  Laird  of  Ellon  grew  furious.     "Unhand  me," 


8  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

he  cried,  in  a  voice  husky  with  anger.  "Am  I  your 
gillie  to  do  your  biddin'  wi'  what  is  my  ain?  I  hold 
my  lands  by  the  same  title  as  you  hold  yours,  wi'  the 
right  to  keep  it  or  sell.  I  hae  cut  the  leadin'  strings, 
lang  syne,  and  winna  wear  them  noo.  Gie  me  your 
siller  if  ye  ken  the  glint  o'  it.  If  ye  cam'  here  to 
play  the  tune  o'  a  piper,  wha  can  blaw  his  bags  but  is 
naught  but  a  beggar,  then  gang  awa'  as  ye  cam'. 
For  price  ye  can  name  it  yer'sel,  and  I'll  tak'  your 
siller  and  bind  the  bargain." 

Gordon  had  bided  his  time,  and  the  fortune  that 
befalls  the  cool  and  crafty  beast,  or  reptile,  or  man 
that  waits  was  within  his  grasp.  Yet  he  showed  no 
haste  in  word  or  action.  He  did  not  intend  to  com- 
promise himself  before  these  men  who  were  to  be  his 
neighbors,  into  whose  houses  he  would  enter,  whose 
respect  and  consideration  were  to  be  part  of  his  prize, 
without  which  the  bare  possession  of  the  land  would 
mean  merely  exile.  The  same  influences  governed 
him  in  naming  the  price  for  the  land,  which,  though 
far  below  its  value,  was  not  so  shamefully  low  as  to 
introduce  him  among  his  future  neighbors,  the  gentry 
of  the  shire,  as  little  better  than  a  thief;  he  took  care 
that  the  transaction  should  be  respectable.  As  he 
named  the  price  some  of  the  gentlemen  were  still 
sober  enough  to  beg  Ellon  to  wait  till  the  morrow, 
and  protested  against  the  sale,  though  they  could  not 
cry  shame  or  point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  the  trades- 
man. Through  it  all  Gordon  kept  his  cold,  glittering 
eye  fixed  on  Ellon,  and  as  the  Laird,  for  the  third  time, 
thrust  his  hand  across  the  table,  Gordon  calmly  and 
deliberately  dropped   a   guinea   in   the  outstretched 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  9 

palm  ;  and  he  knew  that  the  Ellon  estate  was  securely 
his;  yet  even  then  did  not  permit  himself  the  luxury 
of  a  visible  smile. 

The  afternoon  was  waning  when  the  party  of  merry 
gentlemen  dispersed;  and  there  was  no  further  refer- 
ence to  the  transaction  which  would  make  that  a  black- 
listed day  in  the  annals  of  the  country  side,  when  the 
Ellon  estate  passed  from  the  family  of  Muir  into  the 
hands  of  the  Gordons. 

While  ordering  his  horses  and  bustling  about  the 
inn  the  Laird  of  Ellon  sustained  his  courage  with 
much  swagger  and  bluster,  hectoring  the  grooms  and 
stable  boys;  but,  once  on  the  road  homeward,  his 
spirits  drooped  perceptibly.  He  was  wont  to  return 
in  high  feather  from  a  country  fair;  for  he  was  a  man 
of  consequence,  and  it  pleased  him  to  take  the  lead- 
ing position  which  was  accorded  him.  Whether  the 
talk  was  of  beeves  and  wool,  or  of  land  and  the  state 
of  the  crops,  or  of  politics  and  the  turnpike  rebellion, 
or  of  the  traditional  theology  of  the  Kirk;  on  all  these 
points  my  Laird  was  ready  with  his  opinion  and  was 
listened  to  with  respect.  Therefore,  irrespective  of 
his  trading  well  or  ill,  a  country  fair  was  a  sort  of 
social  triumph  for  Muir,  and  he  was  glad  to  carry 
home  an  account  of  his  success  to  his  bonnie  Leddy, 
who  entered  into  all  her  husband's  concerns  with  a 
lively,  but  not  too  prying  interest.  She  kept  pace,  in 
a  wifely  way,  with  all  his  doings;  rode  or  walked  over 
the  estate  with  him,  discussing  improvements;  knew 
what  an  acre  should  produce,  and  what  the  Ellon  acres 
yielded.  Over  the  dairy,  hen-coop,  and  sheep-fold 
she   maintained   thorough  personal  supervision;    the 


io  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

lambs  and  the  calves  and  the  wee,  fluffy  chicks  owed 
more  to  my  Leddy's  watchful  eye  than  to  the  care  of 
their  own  natural  mothers.  She  was  foster-mother  to 
them  all,  and  many  of  them  remembered  the  hand 
that  had  fed  them  in  the  early  days  of  their  struggle 
with  life,  and,  in  later  years,  recognized  their  bene- 
factress and  gave  her  their  mute  benison.  For  it  is 
thus  that  these  dumb  animals  preach  a  silent  sermon 
on  the  gratitude  which  forgets  not  a  favor  when  the 
need  of  it  is  past;  while  men  so  often  resent  the  rec- 
ollection, as  a  debt  which  they  would  fain  ignore. 

Among  the  Ellon  tenantry  there  were  many  who 
did  not  forget;  children,  mothers,  and  fathers  who 
ran  to  the  cottage  doors,  as  Mrs.  Muir  rode  by,  to 
answer  her  bonnie  smile  with  outspoken  blessings. 
Many  a  puny  bairn  which  she  had  nursed  into  life, 
while  the  mother  could  not  care  for  the  perishing  little 
one,  with  its  earliest  speech  was  taught  to  lisp  the 
prayer  that  the  "Guid  God  wad  bless  my  Leddy  and 
the  Laird  of  Ellon,  and  a'  the  bairns  o'  that  house  to 
(the  third  and  fourth  generation." 

When  the  cottages  were  passed,  if  she  were  minded 
to  dismount  at  some  pasture  field,  there  was  sure  to 
be  some  shock-haired  lad  who  had  run  all  the  way 
beside  the  horse  to  hold  my  Leddy's  pony,  and  elated 
beyond  measure  if  it  were  granted  him  to  hold  her 
wee  foot  in  his  hand  and  give  her  a  mount.  It  was  a 
sort  of  badge  of  promotion  on  the  estate  when  a  lad 
could  say,  "I've  lifted  my  Leddy." 

The  account  books  of  the  estate,  which  it  did  not 
comport  with  the  Laird's  dignity  to  handle  (for  he 
had  an  old-fashioned  notion  that  it  scarce  became  a 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 1 

country  gentleman  to  show  an  undue  familiarity  with 
the  tame  learning  of  a  clerk) — these  books  my  Ledcly 
kept  with  a  scrupulous  care  and  exactness  which 
sometimes  vexed  the  Laird;  for  here  must  be  set 
down  at  least  the  gross  amount  (if  not  the  particular 
items)  of  his  own  expenditures;  and  these  gross 
amounts  had  an  unpleasant  look. 

With  pen  in  hand  and  paper  before  her,  his  lady 
had  often  seemed  to  float  dimly  before  his  vision  as  a 
recording  angel;  and  he  was  not  ready  to  be  sum- 
moned beforehand  unto  judgment. 

On  his  ride  home,  as  the  darkness  settled  down, 
and  the  cool  evening  air  drove  the  fumes  of  the  liquor 
from  his  head,  leaving  only  its  depressing  influences 
on  his  nerves,  the  swash -buckler  tone  died  out  of  the 
Laird's  speech  ;  and,  though  he  had  gotten  a  fine  price 
for  his  cattle  and  his  dinner  and  carouse  had  cost  him 
nothing  (for  Gordon  had  paid  the  reckoning  at  the 
inn  for  the  whole  party;  and  well  he  might),  yet,  for 
all  his  gains,  Muir  was  in  no  merry  mood,  foreseeing  a 
rueful  meeting  at  the  end  of  his  journey. 

He  soundly  rated  Donald  McKay  his  steward,  who 
handled  the  reins,  being  in  better  trim  than  the  Laird 
for  driving  in  a  darksome  night;  but  at  every  jolt 
from  rut  or  stone,  he  sneered  at  Donald  as  a  gillie  fit 
only  to  drive  an  ox-cart  or  stagger  at  the  tail  of  a  plow. 

Donald  was  wholly  at  a  loss  how  to  meet  this  out- 
burst. The  bullocks  were  all  sold  and  at  a  fine  price, 
which  was  paid  because  they  were  of  the  famous  Ellon 
stock,  and  he  could  not  guess  what  had  given  his 
master  the  megrims. 

Their  drive  home  had  always  been  beguiled  with 


12  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

talk  over  the  events  of  the  fair,  as  gathered  from  their 
different  points  of  view,  comparisons  of  bargains  and 
sales  of  horses  and  cattle;  all  in  the  familiar  tone  of 
those,  who,  in  this  sphere,  were  on  a  common  footing. 

Donald  had  grown  up  on  the  estate  along  with  the 
Laird,  being  about  three  years  his  senior.  They  had 
been  friends  from  their  youth,  had  fished,  hunted, 
rode,  and  broke  their  colts  to  the  saddle  together  ;  and 
neither  fish  nor  colt  nor  bird  saw  any  difference 
between  the  cotter's  son  and  the  young  Laird. 

There  could  arise  no  question  of  Donald's  loyalty 
to  the  Ellon  estate;  for  he  was  part  of  the  estate;  it 
was  his  by  a  fee  of  which  none  could  ever  rob  him, 
his  until  death  did  them  part;  and  even  then  he  would 
lie  under  its  sod. 

He  was  inclined  to  resent  the  Laird's  mood,  not 
bitterly,  but  with  proud  indignation  born  of  his  true- 
hearted  sense  of  fellowship  in  all  that  concerned  the 
Ellon  interests,  to  which,  did  even  the  Laird  prove 
faithless,  he  would  bide  true. 

"Did  ye  hear  Ross  of  Keith  Hall  say  he  wad  hae 
gi'en  twa  guineas  mair  for  the  red  bullock,  gin  he  had 
had  a  chance  to  spier  him  weel,  afore  Montross  snap- 
pit  him  up?"  said  Donald,  when  they  were  well  on 
the  way. 

Under  normal  conditions  this  would  have  been  the 
entering  wedge  to  open  up  a  long  interchange  of  ex- 
periences that  would  have  beguiled  the  hours  of  the 
lonely  ride.  Unluckily  just  then  the  wagon  dropped 
into  a  rut;  they  were  driving  at  a  furious  pace,  by 
orders  of  the  Laird,  who  seemed  intent  on  leaving 
Old  Meldrum  behind,  little  as  he  had  reason  to  wish 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  13 

himself  at  home;  and  the  violent  lurch  slung  Muir 
almost  off  his  seat.  He  was  in  a  state  of  unstable 
equilibrium,  barely  sufficient  for  his  safety  on  a 
smooth  road,  and  this  jolt  came  near  making  him  bite 
the  dust  in  literal  fashion. 

"Donald,  ye  gillie,"  he  shouted,  "baud  your  clack 
and  mind  your  ponies.  I'm  nae  sae  anxious  for  a 
pocket  fu'  o'  gold,  as  I  am  to  keep  my  head  in  the 
place  where  God  put  it.  Ye  can  keep  the  twa 
guineas,  if  ye'U  keep  the  'twa  corbies'  in  the  straight 
road." 

This  was  the  name  by  which  the  two  coal-black 
ponies  were  known  on  the  Ellon  estate,  and  through 
all  the  country  side.  They  were  a  pair  of  tough  little 
Highland  ponies,  fleet  of  foot  and  long  of  wind,  and 
were  the  favorites  of  the  Laird  when  he  was  off  for  a 
long,  hard  drive.  They  were  good  for  all  weathers, 
cared  not  a  straw  for  shelter,  were  not  fastidious  as  to 
fodder,  eating  anything  from  the  sweetest  corn  to  the 
wiry  moor  grass,  or  even  the  tough  heather  broom, 
when  nothing  better  was  forthcoming.  Donald  hav- 
ing broken  them,  loved  and  trusted  them,  as  they  did 
him. 

"The  twa  corbiesr"  he  retorted  gruffly,  "ken  the 
road  by  nicht  far  better  than  you  or  I,  my  Laird. 
And  a  wise  man  trusts  a  canty  pony  in  the  dark,  and 
leaves  the  guidin'  to  Providence.  If  the  road  doesna 
please  ye,  we  can  gae  back  to  Old  Meldrum,  and  if  the 
gait  doesna  suit  ye,  it  lacks  only  your  word  to  slacken 
a  bit;  I'm  nae  fond  of  boltin'  head  foremost  into  a 
pitch  o'  mirk  like  this.  But  ye  gied  me  the  word, 
and  I  ^ied  it  to  the  corbies." 


14  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"Well,  the  deil's  in  the  road  and  in  the  corbies 
too,"  snapped  out  Muir.  "I  wasna  sae  sair  beat 
about  in  a'  my  life." 

They  drove  on  for  a  while  in  silence,  until  Donald, 
whose  pride  had  been  stirred  by  the  triumphs  of  the 
Ellon  herd,  witnessed  by  the  eagerness,  on  all  hands, 
to  secure  at  least  enough  of  the  stock  to  put  a  strain 
of  the  choice  blood  in  other  herds,  could  no  longer 
restrain  speech.  Had  he  been  alone,  he  would  have 
talked  to  the  "twa  corbies,"  who  (so  he  fancied) 
would  have  understood  him,  and  pricking  up  their 
ears,  arching  their  necks  and  swishing  their  tails  (as 
they  do  when  the  corn  is  sweet)  would  have  stepped 
higher  and  more  lightly,  in  recognition  of  the  honor 
done  to  the  estate  with  which  they  were  identified. 
It  would  not  have  done,  however,  to  ignore  the  Laird 
and  talk  to  the  "corbies";  so  his  loyalty  wrestled  with 
his  resentment  and,  the  nobler  feeling  gaining  sway, 
he  ventured  again: 

"Did  ye  hear  Mclan  o'  Glenburnie  barter  wi'  me 
for  a  next  year's  heifer  or  bullock  frae  the  Ellon  herd  ? 
And  when  Montross  heard  him,  he  said,  'I'll  pay  ye 
twa  guineas  now  for  the  first  choice  o'  the  Ellon  herd 
next  year,  and,  besides  the  bonus,  I  to  pay  the  best 
price  that  ony  yearlin'  fetches  at  the  fair.'  And  he 
was  out  wi'  his  twa  gold  guineas  before  I  could  say 
him  yea  or  nay." 

The  luckless  Donald  could  have  hit  upon  no  more 
unhappy  theme  than  the  price  which  the  Ellon  herd 
would  fetch  at  the  next  year's  fairing.  It  was  gall 
and  wormwood  to  Muir,  who  ground  his  teeth  and 
cursed   the  day  that  brought  Gordon    to  the   north 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  15 

country.  That  Edinburgh  tradesman,  with  speech 
as  smooth  as  the  bite  of  a  leather-mouthed  chub,  had 
filched  (yes,  it  was  no  more  nor  less  than  filching)  his 
ancestral  estate,  his  fair  Ellon  acres,  away  from  him, 
and  left  him  nothing  but  a  dirty  heap  of  tradesman's 
ill-gotten  gold.  It  was  small  comfort  to  him  that 
belike  he  had  fared  no  worse,  when  the  gold  was  paid 
him  as  purchase  money,  than  the  purchasers  who 
made  bad  bargains  over  the  counter,  paying  for  them 
the  gold  that  now  was  his.  It  was  ill-gotten  from  the 
start,  and  had  a  warlock  gift  to  beguile  men,  leading 
them  astray  and  stealing  their  brains,  worse  than  wine. 
It  was  elfin  in  its  origin  and  in  its  power;  it  was  not 
the  fruit  of  honest  toil,  of  sowing,  reaping,  and  tilling 
the  soil;  but  men  found  it  by  luck,  where  the  gnomes 
had  hid  it,  and  it  bewitched  men  to  look  on  it.  He 
cursed  the  guinea  which  lay  heavy  in  the  bottom  of 
his  pocket.  What  did  it  matter  to  him  who  bought 
the  pick  of  the  Ellon  herd  next  year;  or  the  price 
that  they  would  bring.  To  his  credit  be  it  said,  that 
he  bemoaned  not  the  loss  of  money,  but  that  Gordon 
should  wear  the  glory  of  owning  the  Ellon  herd, 
whose  fame  was  his  fame,  whose  honor  was  that  of  his 
family.  Again  let  us  score  another  point  to  the  credit 
of  this  wretched  and  down-hearted  laird.  He  was 
repentant  over  the  sorrow  which  his  folly  would  entail 
in  hall  and  hovel,  but  and  ben,  in  byre  and  fauld. 

He  was  afraid  (in  a  manly  sense)  to  look  his  wife  in 
the  face;  afraid  to  meet  the  reproachful  looks  and 
perchance  words  of  his  tenantry;  afraid  of  the  dumb 
accusation  which  would  stare  at  him  from  the  faces  of 
the  sheep  in  the  fauld  and  the  kine  in  the  byre,  if  they 


1 6  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

knew  that  the  hand  of  the  woman  they  loved  was  ex- 
tended to  them  for  the  last  time. 

The  broad  fields  themselves,  as  they  lay  under  the 
summer  sunshine,  would  smile  a  quiet,  pathetic 
remonstrance,  and  the  breeze  that  swept  through  the 
leaves  of  the  woodland  would  whisper  "Esau." 

He  dreaded,  beyond  anything  that  he  could  have 
described,  to  face  these  reproaches,  even  those  voice- 
less ones  which  pierced  to  the  marrow,  finding  an 
echo  in  the  inner  chambers  of  his  heart.  But  he  felt 
that  the  ice  must  be  broken,  and  Donald  was  a  good 
one  to  begin  upon,  and  the  cover  of  the  darkness  a 
seasonable  time  to  tell  such  a  piece  of  news. 

"It  matters  naught  to  me,"  he  blurted  out,  as 
though  resenting  an  affront  from  his  faithful  servitor, 
"what  price  the  kine  o'  next  year  may  fetch,  for  the 
price  winna  gae  to  me  or  mine,  but  to  a  deil's  bairn 
frae  Edinboro'  toun." 

Donald  was  struck  dumb;  but  after  some  minutes 
silence,  which  put  my  Laird  on  the  rack,  he  found  a 
reasonable  solution. 

"Ye'll  no'  hae  been  playin'  so  high,  my  Laird,  that 
we  canna  pay  the  piper  wi'  the  price  o'  the  crops, 
and  so  ye'll  handle  the  price  o'  next  year's  cattle,  as 
ye  and  your  forbears  hae  done  for  mony  a  year;  and 
they'll  do  it  sae  lang  as  Donald  McKay  is  aboon  the 
gowans." 

This  was  leal  and  true,  but  it  was  far  from  being  a 
balm  to  the  spirit  of  the  Laird,  now  wild  with  the 
anger  of  shame. 

"Donald,"  he  cried,  "ye  hae  left  your  wits  to  wan- 
der awa'  in  the  dark,  till  ye  are  clean  daft  and  rightly 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  17 

ken  naething  that  I  tell  ye.  I  hae  played  for  nae 
more  nor  less  than  the  Ellon  estate,  and  William  Gor- 
don's arle-penny  lies  in  my  pocket,  which  binds  me 
to  tak'  his  price  and  gie  him  the  land,  and  my  word  is 
gane  forth  before  the  gentry  o'  the  shire;  and  I  maun 
bide  by  it  noo,  for  better  or  waur,"  and  the  Laird 
groaned  in  spirit,  quailing  before  the  unseen  face  of 
his  tenant,  hearkening  for  his  answer  as  one  awaits  the 
sentence  of  the  judge.  There  was  a  dead  silence 
longer  than  before,  in  which  the  darkness  seemed  to 
deepen,  and  the  rattle  of  the  wagon,  the  clink  of  the 
harness,  and  the  thud  of  the  hoofs  of  the  "twa  cor- 
bies" on  the  road  rang  out  with  sharp  distinctness  on 
the  night  air,  keeping  a  sort  of  doleful  rhyme  to  the 
Laird's  unhappy  ruminations. 

When  the  pause  had  become  well-nigh  unendurable, 
Donald  answered,  with  a  resonant  sigh,  "The  Lord 
help  us  a' !" 

After  this  they  rode  on  in  silence  until  the  inn  was 
reached,  where  they  halted  for  the  night,  and,  setting 
out  early  on  the  morrow,  reached  Heatherside  Hall 
about  noon. 

After  the  first  greetings  were  over,  and  Mrs.  Muir 
began  to  question  the  Laird  as  to  how  he  had  fared  at 
Old  Meldrum,  what  was  said  of  the  Ellon  cattle,  what 
price  they  fetched,  and  he  had  told  of  his  success,  of 
the  fine  prices  realized  and  the  fair  words  that  had 
been  spoken  of  the  herd,  he  handed  her  the  gold 
which  was  the  price  of  the  nine  head,  and  there  was 
one  guinea  over. 

"And  what  is  this  guinea,"  she  asked.  "Shall  I 
enter  it  among  the  cattle  sales?"     It  lay  there  on  the 


1 8  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

table  between  them,  its  treacherous,  yellow  face  writ- 
ten all  over  with  his  accusation. 

"No,"  said  my  Laird,  with  all  the  bravery  he  could 
muster  in  look  and  tone.  "Ye  may  credit  that  as  the 
first  payment  on  the  Ellon  estate,  frae  William  Gor- 
don o'  Edinburgh."  Then  he  put  his  hands  on  his 
hips,  walked  to  the  window,  and  looked  out  over  the 
park,  whistling  the  air  of  a  Highland  fling. 

"What?"  that  was  all  her  answer,  brief  but  full  of 
meaning.  There  was  a  stormy  whistle  to  the  "wh," 
followed  by  the  broad  vowel  with  the  tempestuous 
roll  of  a  mighty  wind,  cut  off  suddenly  by  the  final 
consonant;  like  one  of  those  quick  silences  in  the 
tempest,  boding  more  than  the  roar  of  the  storm. 
Ellon  felt  like  a  reed  shaken  with  the  wind. 

After  this  came  an  ominous  pause  suggesting  that 
the  end  was  not  yet;  but  what  more  could  he  say;  he 
had  told  her  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  there  was 
the  golden  token  before  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Muir,  how- 
ever, was  not  ready  to  make  such  an  entry  in  her 
books  without  further  information. 

"Ellon,"  she  said  at  last,  when  his  breath  would 
no  longer  sustain  the  feeblest  cheep  of  a  whistle,  "are 
ye  sober,  or  how  cam'  a'  this  about." 

"If  ye  canna  tell  whan  I  am  sober,  ye  had  better 
spier  o'  Donald  McKay;  but  sober  or  fou',  I  hae 
sold  the  Ellon  estate,  and  ye  can  enter  the  price  and 
that  guinea  as  the  arle-penny;  and  we'll  settle  our 
minds  to  mak'  the  best  o'  it.  Better  be  blithe  wi' 
little  than  sad  wi'  muckle." 

"Ellon,"  she  said,  "I  care  naught  for  your  saws. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  19 

It's  nae  question  o'  little  or  muckle.  Ye  tell  me  that 
I  hae  nae  mair  house  nor  hame,  and  for  comfort  you 
gie  me  an  old  saw,  a  bone  wi'out  meat.  Wha  will  tell 
the  tenants  that  the  Laird  is  nae  mair  Laird?  It  is  a 
sorry  trade  that  ye  hae  made  at  this  fair,  Ellon.  Far 
better  had  your  bullocks  been  drowned  in  Don  water, 
and  your'sel  wet  to  the  skin  in  the  bargain;  for  you 
could  win  to  the  shore  wi'  the  help  o'  the  'corbies,' 
or  Donald  would  hae  fishit  ye  oot;  but  frae  this  ditch, 
into  which  the  Gordon  has  dumpit  ye,  neither  man 
nor  beast  will  serve  to  lift  ye.  Ah !  ye  are  a  braw 
Laird  to  go  a-fairin'  wi'  his  bullocks  and  lose  house 
and  lands,  and  the  fair  name  o'  the  Muirs  into  the 
bargain.  Let  us  call  the  tenants  and  tell  them  how 
Robert  Muir,  Laird  o'  Ellon,  met  the  Gordon  and  was 
pluckit  clean  as  a  green  goose  for  the  roast." 

The  Laird  was  in  no  mood  to  resent  this  attack 
nor  had  he  weapons  to  make  defense  or  counter- 
thrust. 

"Perchance  I  was  a  wee  bit  in  my  cups,"  he  said. 
"I  had  quenched  the  drouth  o'  a  hard  day's  fairin' 
in  an  honest  stoup  o'  wine,  and  when,  later  on,  they 
brought  a  sup  o'  the  mountain  dew,  I  was  fain  to  bear 
my  part,  as  a  gentleman,  among  my  friends  and  neigh- 
bors. The  carl  frae  Edinboro'  ate  little  and  drank 
less.  I  stood  my  ground  before  the  tradin'  cur, 
wha  was  fain  to  mak'  a  gowk  o'  me  afore  the  hale 
shire,  as  one  who  dared  not  set  a  value  on  herds  or 
lands.  When  he  put  me  on  my  mettle,  I  gave  him  my 
mind  and  let  the  gentry  ken  that  I  was  not  to  be 
brow-beaten  by  a  beggarly  tradesman.     So  I  took  his 


20  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

guinea,  when  I  had  already  passed  the  word  o'  a  gen- 
tleman and  couldna  retract." 

"A'  this  comes  o'  your  roysterin'  at  the  fair,  Ellon. 
Ye  are  a  bonnie  Laird,  wha  canna  rule  his  ain  gullet, 
and  kens  not  when  he  is  weel  and  to  haud  himsel' 
sae.  But  I  tell  ye,  Ellon,  I  winna  hear  o'  ony  sic 
bargain.  Ye  can  tak'  the  'twa  corbies'  when  they  are 
foddered  and  ride  straight  to  Aberdeen  and  present 
the  compliments  o'  Mrs.  Muir  to  your  bonnie  Gor- 
don, together  wi'  his  yellow-faced  guinea,  and  tell 
him  she  will  hae  nane  o'  it.  He  can  keep  his  gowd, 
and  we  will  haud  our  lands,"  and  she  flung  the  guinea 
across  the  table. 

"I  canna  do  it,"  answered  Muir  firmly,  beginning 
to  feel  solid  ground  under  his  feet.  "We  wad  buy 
back  the  land  at  a  sair  price,  if  we  paid  for  it  wi'  the 
broken  faith  o'  a  Muir.  I  hae  passed  my  word  and 
ta'en  his  arle-penny,  in  the  presence  o'  honest  gentle- 
men. Guid  faith  and  the  law  o'  the  land  forbid  me 
to  gae  back  on  my  word;  we  maun  put  the  best  face 
we  can  on  it,  and  do  as  honor  bids." 

To  this  the  poor  lady  had  no  answer  to  make ;  for 
she  prized  the  family  name  and  honor  above  house  or 
lands.  She  could  face  beggary,  but  the  thought  of 
disgrace  cowed  her — to  see  her  husband  looked  upon 
askance  by  the  gentry  of  the  shire,  as  one  who  held 
tenure  of  his  lands  by  virtue  of  his  broken  faith. 

The  misery  of  it  all  came  over  her  and,  bursting 
into  tears,  she  cried,  "O  Ellon,  Ellon,  whatever  did 
ye  say  so  for?  Why  could  ye  not  haud  your  tongue 
against  yon  crafty  chiel?" 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  21 

To  this  my  Laird,  having  no  sufficient  answer,  with 
wisdom  all  too  late  to  do  him  service  in  this  sad  busi- 
ness, held  his  tongue ;  and  the  cruel  fact  remained  for 
them  to  meet,  in  the  best  spirit  they  could  muster, 
that  Heatherside  Hall  had  passed  away  from  the  fam- 
ily of  Muir. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"a  fair  swap  has  a  sonsie  lave." 

MR.  ROBERT  MUIR,  quondam  Laird  of  Ellon, 
being  estreped  of  one  estate,  in  order  to  main- 
tain the  position  which  his  family  had  held  for  three 
generations,  as  freeholders  of  Scottish  soil,  forthwith 
set  himself  to  the  obtaining  of  another.  His  late 
experience  led  him  to  profit  by  the  lesson  learned 
from  the  Edinburgh  tradesman,  little  as  he  liked  the 
schooling. 

In  scouring  the  country  in  search  of  a  suitable 
estate,  he  accepted  the  invitation  of  my  Lord  Frazer 
to  join  a  hunting  party  at  Castle  Frazer. 

It  was  a  fine  old  place  in  the  southwest  corner  of 
the  shire,  with  fertile  fields  bordering  the  north  bank 
of  the  Don.  For  this  gentle  stream,  with  its  broad 
rolling  valleys  famed  for  their  fertility,  Mr.  Muir  had 
far  more  liking  than  for  the  banks  of  the  brawling 
Dee,  with  its  woods  full  of  the  red  deer  and  the 
grouse,  and  its  waters  flashing  to  the  leap  of  the  stal- 
wart salmon.     The  old  rhyme  has  it: 

Ae  rood  o'  Don's  worth  twa  o'  Dee 
Except  it  be  for  fish,  stane,  or  tree. 

Muir  believed  in  old  rhymes,  and  held  that  it  was 
pleasant  to  hunt  over  another  man's  land,  where  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  23 

red  deer  are  plenty,  but  better  to  be  the  owner  of  an 
estate  that  bred  tamer  cattle. 

My  Lord  Frazer  was  more  at  home  in  the  forest 
than  in  the  field,  and  had  let  his  estate  fall  into  the 
hands  of  hirelings  to  manage;  and  the  old  proverb 
worked  itself  out,  "like  master  like  man."  Frazer 
was  hail-fellow-well-met  with  those  of  his  tenants  who 
loved,  as  he  did,  the  bay  of  the  pack  in  full  chase,  or 
the  whirr  of  the  grouse  in  the  early  morn ;  and,  where 
the  hunter's  horn  is  music  to  the  ear  of  the  laird  and 
the  hind,  the  fields  lie  fallow;  the  neat-cattle  fare  but 
ill  while  the  wild  deer  are  chased,  and  the  neat-herd 
is  lightly  esteemed  in  comparison  with  the  game- 
keeper. 

So  my  Lord  Frazer  had  brought  things  to  a  sorry 
pass  with  his  love  of  merry  feasting  and  hunting 
parties,  and  was  in  a  poor  way  to  meet  the  debts  which 
encumbered  his  estate,  and  which  grew  apace,  like  ill 
weeds. 

This  hunting  party  gave  Mr.  Muir  a  fine  chance  to 
see  the  estate,  as  they  scoured  it  in  the  chase,  over 
grainfield  and  fallow  ground,  and,  having  an  eye  well 
trained  to  recognize  a  stretch  of  arable  land,  he  fell 
into  talk  with  my  Lord  Frazer  regarding  his  lands, 
and  found  him  well  informed  in  regard  to  the  game 
in  his  covers,  but  knowing  little  about  the  culture  of 
the  rich  lands  which  he  had  inherited. 

"Ye'll  be  drainin'  yon  meadow  in  time  for  next 
season's  crop,"  said  Muir,  overlooking  a  bit  of  land, 
which  his  practiced  eye  told  him  needed  but  a  little 
ditching  to  make  a  harvest  field  that  would  return  a 
heavy  crop  to  the  acre. 


24  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"Well,  no,"  answered  Frazer  carelessly;  "to  tell  ye 
the  honest  truth,  I  haena  muckle  faith  in  this  new- 
fangled notion  o'  drainin'  the  earth.  Gin  the  Al- 
mighty put  the  water  there,  it  is  as  weel  to  leave  it  lie, 
and  not  spoil  a  fine  moist  feedin'  ground,  which  the 
red  deer  loves  o'  a  summer  night,  whan  the  hill-tops 
are  dry  and  the  buds  o'  the  birch  hae  lost  sap  and 
sweetness.  It  fattens  them  fine  for  the  autumn  hunt; 
and  I  am  fain  to  hae  my  friends  feel  that  a  Frazer  red 
deer  is  aye  worth  a  hale  day's  huntin'." 

"The  red  deer  winna  pay  a  man's  debts;  and  the 
land  that  is  full  o'  them  will  aye  bide  the  poorest 
land  in  the  shire,"  answered  Muir. 

"I  hae  yet  to  learn  that  it  is  the  part  o'  a  gentle- 
man to  borrow  the  whine  o'  the  tradesman  and  fash 
his  soul  ower  the  payin*  o'  his  debts,"  retorted  Frazer. 

"He  rieedna  fash  his  soul;  but  he  maun  pay  his 
debts,  be  he  gentleman  or  tradesman,"  replied  Muir, 
"and,  to  my  thinkin',  he  maun  win  them  frae  his 
land  wi'  ither  cattle  than  red  deer." 

"Aweel,  to  my  thinkin',"  said  Frazer,  "a  Scots 
laird  can  do  naught  bonnier  than  live  the  life  o'  a 
laird  on  his  land,  and  follow  the  wind  o'  the  hunter's 
horn  and  blithely  chase  the  roebuck  or  hunt  the  grouse 
in  his  covers,  and  feast  his  friends  on  the  game,  wi' 
plenty  o'  good  cheer;  and,  when  the  game  is  up  and 
he  can  nae  mair  do  it,  then  let  him  die,  or  sell  his 
lands  and  hunt  in  the  covers  o'  the  next  man  wha  can 
baud  acres  eneuch  to  ride  ower." 

"But,  my  Laird  Frazer,  gin  a  man  plays  this  game, 
it  is  short  work  to  reckon  the  days  whan  the  hunter  maun 
wind  his  horn  ower  anither  man's  land,"  said  Muir. 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  25 

"Aweel,  to  say  truth,  Muir,"  answered  Frazer,  "ye 
are  right,  and  ye're  tellin'  me  only  what  I  ken  but  too 
well.  I'm  haudin'  my  last  season's  hunt  ower  the 
Frazer  acres;  anither  season  will  see  them  in  the  grip 
o'  a  man  that  has  been  lendin'  and  waitin',  and  they 
say  the  deil  is  ne'er  in  haste,  but  aye  bides  his  time. 
I  reckon  this  man  learned  his  lesson  frae  the  deil,  and 
he  hasna  muckle  langer  to  bide.  But  it  irks  me  sair 
to  see  him  win  to  the  day  when  he  can  tell  me  that 
my  ain  is  nae  mair  mine,  but  his." 

Muir  was  touched ;  having  been  in  like  case,  he  felt 
for  the  Laird  Frazer. 

"These  money-lendin'  carls  are  aye  the  same 
breed,"  he  said,  with  bitter  recollection  of  his  disas- 
trous encounter  with  Gordon.  "I  wad  buy  Castle 
Frazer  mysel',  were  it  ony  less  bitter  for  ye  to  see  me 
on  the  estate,  than  to  hae  yon  maister  money-bags 
lordin*  it  ower  the  tenantry,  aping  the  manners  o'  a 
gentleman." 

"Aye,  that  it  wad  be,"  answered  Frazer  heartily. 
"I  will  gladly  name  ye  the  bare  debt  for  price,  and  if 
ye  are  minded  to  tak'  the  bargain,  ye  can  gie  me  forty 
guineas,  and  wi'  that  I  will  quench  the  usury  o'  the 
debt,  and  will  gie  notice  to  Shylock  that  he  can  write 
me  a  discharge,  and  I'll  pay  the  debt  in  full  as  soon 
as  ye  can  fetch  me  the  gold." 

So  these  merry  gentlemen  made  their  bargain  with  a 
fine  disdain  of  the  crafty  methods  of  the  tradesman, 
and  were  ready  for  a  jovial  celebration  of  its  easy  con- 
clusion, so  satisfactory  to  both;  for  by  it  Muir  was 
reinstated  in  the  caste  to  which  he  belonged,  and 
Frazer  was    delivered  from  the   clutches   of  a  man 


26  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

whose  greed  was  that  of  Shylock,  without  the  excuse 
that  Shylock  might  plead. 

Their  bargain  was  sealed  by  a  payment  on  the  spot, 
and  my  Lord  Frazer,  after  paying  his  usury,  went 
back  to  Frazer  Castle  in  no  such  sorry  mood  as  Muir's 
when  he  rode  home  after  the  sale  of  the  Ellon  estate. 

On  the  contrary  he  was  highly  elated,  having  other 
estates  left ;  and,  being  a  free  man  now,  he  could 
browbeat  the  cringing  money-lender,  call  him  Shylock, 
and  offer  to  spit  upon  his  beard. 

When  he  reached  home  he  greeted  his  lady  cheer- 
ily, and  recounted  with  pride  the  fine  transaction. 
But  he  had  reckoned  without  his  host,  for  the  shrewd 
and  canty  wife  refused  to  sanction  my  Lord's  hasty 
bargain. 

In  vain  Frazer  protested  stoutly,  "The  thing  is 
done,  I  tell  ye.  I  hae  the  Laird  o'  Ellon's  gold;  I 
can  nae  mair  gae  back  o'  my  word.  Will  ye  hae  the 
hale  shire  point  at  me  as  the  laird  wha  passed  his  word 
and  forfeited  his  faith  to  a  gentleman?" 

"The  hale  shire  may  point,  as  it  suits  them," 
^replied  the  lady.  "And  for  that  matter  ye  may  do  as 
.it  pleases  ye.  I  speak  for  mysel'  only ;  and  I  tell  ye, 
Frazer,  I  wasna  in  at  the  bargain  and  I'm  not  bound 
by  its  terms.  If  the  Laird  o'  Ellon  tak's  the  house, 
he  tak's  me  wi'  it;  for  here  I  was  born  and  here  will 
I  bide  until  the  Lord  ca's  me  to  the  better  hame." 

"Aweel,  ye  maun  bide,  but  when  Ellon  comes  to 
claim  the  house  and  land  which  he  has  bought,  then  I 
and  the  bairns  gae  to  Brawburn  House,"  answered 
Frazer  firmly. 

Since  her  lord  was  not  to  be  moved  to  recede  from 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  27 

the  terms  of  his  barter,  my  Lady  Frazer  posted  off  to 
Mrs.  Muir  to  plead  her  cause  before  that  tribunal ; 
and  found  that  she  had  to  deal  with  no  stern  judge; 
women  understand  so  well  the  finer  principles  in- 
volved in  such  a  case.  She  reminded  Mrs.  Muir  of 
the  loss  of  her  own  estate,  and  drew  the  picture  so  to 
the  life,  that  it  brought  tears  to  the  lady's  eyes;  and 
then  Lady  Frazer  knew  that  her  cause  was  won.  The 
two  ladies  were  soon  weeping  in  each  other's  arms, 
and  she  who  had  come  to  stir  the  waters  of  grief  now 
strove  to  comfort,  and  as  she  strove  made  more  cer- 
tain the  winning  of  her  case. 

What  could  two  men  avail  against  such  a  tender 
league  as  these  two  women  had  avowed?  Like  good 
men  and  true  they  followed  the  counsel  of  their  wives. 

Muir  accepted  as  an  equivalent  of  the  Gordon's 
gold  (which  he  was  glad  to  be  well  rid  of)  the  estates 
of  Stoneywold,  Clintney,  and  Brawburn  on  Donside; 
which  being  afterward  joined  under  the  name  of  the 
Barony  of  Stoneywold,  the  former  Laird  of  Ellon  was 
himself  again  as  the  Laird  of  Stoneywold. 

Along  with  the  title  deeds  Lady  Frazer,  in  recog- 
nition of  the  mercy  that  had  spared  her  home,  sent  to 
Mrs.  Muir  a  green  silk  purse,  which  her  own  hand 
had  netted,  with  a  golden  guinea  in  it  for  a  "bonnie 
token"  ;  and  to  Mr.  Muir,  who  was  a  stanch  Jacobite, 
she  gave  a  portrait  of  Charles  I.  painted  by  Van  Dyke, 
which  hung  in  the  Stoneywold  house;  and  the  Bible 
which  the  hapless  monarch  had  used  in  prison,  with 
the  initials  C.  R.  written  with  his  own  hand  on  the  fly 
leaf;  and  the  insignia  of  the  Star  and  Garter  which 
the  king  had  worn;  all  which  had  come  to  her  family 


28  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

from  Bishop  Juxon,  who  attended  the  king  upon  the 
scaffold.  These  relics  were  in  a  large  stone  sarcoph- 
agus which  stood  in  the  hall  of  the  Stoneywold  house, 
bound  with  heavy  iron  bands  and  the  hasps  secured 
by  padlocks.  And  thus,  with  happy  auguries,  the 
Muirs  took  possession  of  the  house  that  was  to  be  a 
home  for  them  and  their  children  for  many  genera- 
tions. 

Stoneywold  had  been  the  ancient  family  seat  of  the 
Frazers  of  Muchals,  now  of  Castle  Frazer.  It  was 
situated  about  twelve  miles  up  the  Don  from  the  old 
town  of  Aberdeen,  and  ten  miles,  in  a  direct  line, 
from  the  sea. 

The  old  house  was  a  massive  granite  structure  built 
around  three  sides,  and  in  part  along  the  fourth  side, 
of  a  quadrangle.  The  front  was  flanked  on  either 
corner  by  high  towers  pierced  with  port-holes  for 
musketry,  and  with  battlements  which  commanded  the 
strong,  oaken  entrance  doors  banded  with  iron,  and 
also  the  courtyards  and  the  wings.  Anciently  there 
had  been  a  moat  around  the  walls,  with  drawbridge 
and  portcullis;  but  now  the  moat  was  filled,  and  of 
the  drawbridge  there  remained  only  the  heavy  eyebolts 
through  which  the  chains  of  the  portcullis  ran.  Across 
the  rear  and  connecting  the  wings  ran  a  stone  wall,  four 
feet  thick,  pierced  with  a  low-arched  postern  gate;  and 
along  the  outer  edge  of  this  wall  ran  a  battlement, 
affording  a  point  of  vantage  to  resist  an  attack  in  the 
rear.  The  old  house  had  been  built  in  the  days  when 
a  man  held  his  own  until  a  better  than  he  took  it  from 
him;  and  it  therefore  behooved  him  to  make  his 
house  his  fortress.     The  large  quadrangle  had  more 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  29 

than  once  been  stocked  to  withstand  a  siege,  and  the 
deep  well,  in  the  center  of  the  courtyard,  had  been 
put  there  with  an  eye  to  defense  rather  than  con- 
venience. 

As  one  enters  the  arched  portal,  a  broad  flight  of 
steps  leads  into  a  hall  to  the  left,  which  is  floored  and 
wainscotted  to  the  ceiling  with  oak,  dark  with  age. 
The  ancient  armor  hanging  on  the  walls  harmonized 
well  with  the  dark  old  oak.  The  guns,  arquebusses, 
bows,  and  spears,  together  with  the  antlers  and  trophies 
of  the  chase,  gave  it  the  aspect  of  the  arsenal  of  some 
old  fortress,  and  made  one  feel  that  a  sturdy  race  had 
flourished  there,  men  of  war  and  mighty  hunters  in 
their  day. 

A  richly  carved  cabinet  stood  on  one  side  of  the 
hall,  and,  on  the  other,  the  stone  sarcophagus  in  which 
were  enshrined  the  relies  of  that  luckless  family,  who 
had  the  fatal  power  to  charm  men  to  their  own  undo- 
ing, for  whom  Scotland  has  poured  out  her  best  blood 
like  water  spilled  on  the  ground. 

Beyond  this  hall,  which  terminated  in  the  left-hand 
tower,  was  the  reception-room  and  dining  hall,  and 
beyond  these,  in  later  days,  there  had  been  added  a 
conservatory  or  winter  garden. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  main  entrance  a  similar 
flight  of  granite  steps  led  into  the  counterpart  of  the 
great  oaken  hall,  which  was  hung  about  with  family 
portraits,  for  the  most  part  very  crude  from  an  artistic 
point  of  view,  and  for  the  credit  of  the  family  it  may 
be  hoped  not  strictly  true  to  life  as  portraits;  but  they 
were  the  presentment  of  veritable  people,  each  with 
the  name  attached,  a  genuine  family  tree. 


30  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Beyond  this  family  gallery,  past  the  round  tower,  in 
which  was  the  staircase  leading  to  the  sleeping  apart- 
ments, were  the  parlors,  with  high  vaulted  ceilings  and 
smooth  waxed  floors,  which  had  been  the  scene  of 
many  a  gallant  gathering  where  flying  feet  chased  the 
hours  "ayont  the  twal." 

Back  of  these  parlors  was  the  Laird's  office,  where 
he  received  his  tenants  and  transacted  the  business  of 
the  estate ;  and,  from  this,  the  postern  wall  stretched 
over  to  the  other  wing. 

In  front  of  the  house  a  lawn,  about  thirty  acres  in 
extent,  slopes  gently  down  to  the  River  Don,  which 
here  took  a  turn  in  its  course  and  thus  encompassed  a 
patch  of  about  one  mile  of  fertile  ground,  which, 
broken  here  and  there  by  clumps  of  fir  and  beeches, 
was  a  resting  place  for  the  long  thwart  shadows  at 
noon,  and  again  at  evening  they  fell  across  the  rolling 
sward. 

There  were  resting  places  for  the  song-birds  in  the 
clumps  of  trees,  and  flowers  in  the  meadow  to  lure 
the  humming  bees.  It  was  a  spot  full  of  quiet  beauty, 
with  an  easy  grace,  like  the  slow  movements  of  a 
stately  woman;  it  charmed  the  eye  and  held  the 
thought  in  reverie.  With  nothing  impressive  in  the 
scene,  its  gentleness  beguiled  the  eye  to  look  and  lin- 
ger on  it.  It  was  such  a  bit  of  landscape  as  the  win- 
dows of  a  happy  home  should  overlook;  and  so 
thought  Mrs.  Muir  as  she  watched  her  children  play, 
while  she  drank  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  letting  its 
gentleness  speak  peace  to  her  spirit.  Homelike  and 
Scottish  it  was;  and  that  filled  the  measure  of  her 
desires. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  31 

So  my  Laird  and  Lady  of  Stoneywold  entered  upon 
their  life  in  this  section  of  the  shire,  the  Laird  bustling 
about  the  place,  building  up  and  tearing  down,  fenc- 
ing and  ditching  his  lands  and  turning  many  a  fallow 
into  a  grain  field.  Mrs.  Muir  once  more  took  over- 
sight of  the  accounts  and  of  the  young  creatures  that 
came  to  increase  the  flocks  and  herds  of  Stoneywold. 
She  and  my  Lady  Frazer  were  firm  friends,  and  their 
children  after  them,  and  were  leaders  of  society  in 
this  section. 

Here  there  were  born  to  this  devoted  couple  four 
children,  in  addition  to  three  which  they  had  brought 
with  them,  to  gladden  the  old  house  and  make  the 
lawn  merry  with  their  sports. 

With  only  one  of  these  has  our  family  history  to  do, 
James,  the  eldest  son,  who  fell  heir  to  the  estate  and, 
in  due  time,  took  to  himself  a  wife  in  the  person  of 
Miss  Helen  Mackay  of  Aspen  Hall,  of  an  ancient 
family  whose  several  generations  were  known  as  hon- 
orable men  and  gentle  women.  She  had  many  suitors 
from  far  and  near,  for  she  was  dowered  richly  with 
wealth  and  beauty;  but  James  Muir  won  the  prize  at 
last,  after  many  an  encounter  which  drove  his  impa- 
tient spirit  to  the  verge  of  distraction. 

When  he  brought  home  in  triumph  his  bonnie  bride, 
there  was  a  famous  festival.  The  tenants  assembled 
in  holiday  attire  and  greeted  the  young  couple  as  they 
rode  under  the  arch  of  evergreen  with  its  suspended 
horseshoe.  The  entrance  steps  were  well  strewn  with 
sandy  loam,  and,  on  either  side,  a  maiden  stood, 
broom  in  hand,  to  sweep  the  steps  for  the  passage  of 
the  bride,  halting  her  on  the  threshold  until  her  hus- 


32  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

band  had  crossed  it,  thus  making  sure  of  his  place  as 
master  of  the  house. 

The  blessing  of  the  bride  whom  the  sun  shines  on 
was  hers,  and  the  children  of  the  cotters,  for  many  a 
mile  round,  strewed  wild  flowers  in  her  path;  for  all 
of  whom  she  had  a  smile  and  a  light  in  her  bonnie 
blue  eyes,  which  won  her  a  way  to  their  hearts. 

There  was  a  feast  on  the  lawn  for  the  tenantry, 
with  good  cheer  for  all,  and  afterward  they  played  at 
golf,  quintain,  wrestling,  and  putting  the  stone;  and 
the  prizes  from  the  hand  of  the  young  bride  seemed 
well  worth  striving  for. 

And  all  this  merry-making  was  done  to  the  strains 
of  the  bagpipe,  that  monotonous  melody  so  dear  to 
the  heart  of  Scotia's  sons,  suited  to  rouse  them  to  val- 
orous deeds  or  to  warm  the  cockles  of  the  heart. 

Roy  Lachlan,  the  leader  of  the  band  of  pipers,  had 
a  rude  gift  of  extempore  rhyming,  and  when  the  games 
were  ended,  with  a  proud  humility  he  stepped  for- 
ward and  doffed  his  bonnet,  letting  his  long,  scant, 
white  locks  fall  around  his  face,  which  gave  him  the 
weird  look  of  a  veritable  bard.  The  inspiration  of 
the  occasion  lifted  him  above  the  piper  at  a  country 
fair  or  a  cotter's  wedding,  as,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  battlements  of  the  old  tower,  he  began  a  recitative 
ballad,  adjuring  the  old  pile  to  shed  its  storied  honor 
over  this  family  who  had  come  to  make  this  their 
home,  to  shelter  them  and  make  them  know  the  honor 
and  peace  which  had  ever  dwelt  within  those  walls. 

"  Ancient  towers  of  granite  strong  and  gray 
I  bid  ye  listen  to  my  wedding-welcome  lay  ; 
Haud  up  your  heads  in  night  time  or  the  day, 
And  gie  your  shelter  to  my  Laird  and  Leddy  gay  ; 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  33 

Ye've  been  the  beacon  frae  the  days  o'  old 
That  told  men  where  to  look  for  Stoneywold  ; 
And  when  they  came  and  sought  a  shelter  here, 
They  found  a  plenty,  welcome  and  good  cheer." 

Then,  turning  to  the  woods  and  fields,  he  adjured 
them  to  yield  a  good  return,  and  then,  in  gentler 
strains,  welcomed  her  who  had  come  from  other  braes 
and  burns  to  bloom,  like  the  lily  and  the  rose,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Don,  praying  that  Heaven  might  bless 
her  and  the  Laird  and  make  them  know  how  bonnie 
was  the  lot  of  those  to  whom  love  and  gentleness  were 
more  than  house  and  lands  and  worldly  gear;  closing 
with  this  strain : 

"  Fauld  her,  oh  sunshine,  in  your  gentle  rays, 

Play  round  her,  winds,  your  soft  and  pleasant  lays, 
Frae  every  airt  bring  dews  and  gentle  showers 
To  bless  her  life  and  strew  her  path  wi'  flowers." 

It  was  very  homely,  but  the  tenants  reckoned  old 
Lachlan  among  Scotia's  immortal  bards;  and,  if  this 
may  not  be  his  mead,  yet  none  could  gainsay  him  the 
honor  of  having  done  what  he  could  to  honor  the  fair 
young  bride. 

Helen  thought  it  no  small  honor  to  be  the  heroine 
of  this  bardic  lay,  for  it  voiced  the  loyal  devotion  of 
the  tenantry,  who  listened,  awe-struck,  to  one  with 
whom  they  mingled  in  everyday  life  exercising  the 
mystic  power  of  the  poet. 

A  short  speech  from  the  young  Laird,  thanking 
them  for  the  homecoming  given  to  him  and  his  bride, 
endorsed  by  a  smile  and  bow  of  thanks  from  the  bride 
herself,  closed  the  festivities,  after  which  the  tenants 
dispersed   to   gather  in  little  groups  and  discuss,  in 


34  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

every  detail,  the  young  Leddy,  for  not  a  look  or  word 
or  smile  had  passed  unnoted  by  some  one  of  the 
searching  pairs  of  eyes  that  had  scanned  her  all  that 
afternoon. 

Together  with  her  own  sweet  self  she  brought  a 
dower  of  four  thousand  pounds,  and  ten  golden 
guineas  for  the  green  silk  purse,  with  her  mother's 
counsel  never  to  borrow  from  it  save  in  times  of 
urgent  need,  and  always  to  put  into  it  some  portion  of 
each  year's  proceeds  from  the  sale  of  crops  and  herds. 
The  pith  of  her  counsel  lay  in  the  wish  with  which 
she  ended  it:    "May  its  sides  never  meet." 

The  young  mistress  of  Stoneywold  brought  to  her 
new  home  much  of  the  spirit  and  training  of  so 
wise  a  mother,  and  was  a  fendy  wife  to  young 
Muir. 

It  happened  not  long  after  the  birth  of  her  first- 
born, young  James  II.,  that  the  Laird  was  going  to 
the  neighboring  fair  at  Woodburn  to  buy  cattle,  and 
was  constrained  to  borrow  from  the  funds  on  hand, 
and  so  the  green  silk  purse  was  filled  with  golden 
guineas  and  carried  along  to  the  fair. 

While  her  husband  mingled  with  the  drovers  and 
traders,  inspecting  their  cattle  and  driving  his  bar- 
gains, the  young  wife,  wandering  listlessly  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  fair,  striving  to  forget  the  slow  flight  of 
time,  and  thinking  more  of  her  baby  boy,  ten  miles 
away,  than  of  all  the  bustle  and  stir  about  her,  came 
upon  a  tidy  young  woman,  sitting  on  a  grassy  bank 
by  the  roadside,  nursing  her  child.  This  was  a  tie 
between  them,  stronger  than  the  difference  in  rank, 
and  so  they  quickly  made  acquaintance,  and  down  sat 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  35 

Mrs.  Muir  by  her  side,  hungry  for  her  child,  as 
doubtless  he  was  for  her. 

"  'Tis  a  bonnie  bairn  that  ye  cuddle  to  your 
breast,"  said  the  young  Lady  of  Stoneywold,  looking 
kindly  on  the  mother.  "It  minds  me  o'  my  ain 
Jamie,  and  my  heart  grows  weary  for  my  bairn." 

"Aye,  my  Leddy, "  answered  the  woman,  rising 
and  courtesying  and  holding  up  the  wee  Scot,  with 
motherly  pride.  "Wi'  your  Leddysip's  leave,  I  am 
Ailie  Duncan  frae  Moneymusk,  and  I  bide  here  for 
my  gudeman  wha  is  tradin'  at  the  fair." 

The  young  Scot  set  small  score  by  the  courtesies, 
which  broke  in  upon  his  placid  enjoyment,  which  was 
his  way  of  making  merry  at  the  fair.  He  entered 
such  a  lusty  protest  as  made  him  heard  above  the 
bleating  of  the  sheep  and  lowing  of  the  kine,  and  put 
all  further  talk  out  of  the  question  until  his  demands 
were  met. 

Then  Mrs.  Muir  reached  out  to  take  him,  and  once 
having  him  in  her  arms,  the  mother  instinct  grew 
strong. 

"Will  ye  lend  me  your  bairn,  that  I  may  think 
I  fauld  my  ain  Jamie  to  my  breast,"  she  said  to 
Ailie. 

"Surely,  my  Leddy,"  answered  Ailie,  handing  the 
child  over.  "And  I'll  tell  my  bairn,  when  he  is  grown 
to  be  a  braw  lad,  to  be  mindfu'  that  aince  he  was  fos- 
tered by  a  leddy  o'  high  degree,  and  he  maun  aye 
remember  to  keep  himsel'  frae  disgrace." 

So  Mrs.  Muir  sat  down  in  Ailie's  place,  happy  to 
have  the  child  in  her  arms,  as  he  was  content  to  be 
there.     For  her  better  protection  Ailie  threw  her  own 


36  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

cloak  over  Mrs.  Muir's  head,  which  answered  the 
purpose  of  a  disguise.  Thus  she  sat  while  the  young 
mother  wandered  off  into  the  bustle  of  the  fair  to  dis- 
cover what  had  become  of  her  gudeman. 

While  sitting  thus  hooded  and  alone  by  the  road- 
side, with  the  nursling  in  her  arms,  to  her  great  con- 
sternation there  was  a  quick  step  behind  her,  the 
corner  of  the  plaid  was  hastily  lifted  and  into  her  lap 
was  thrown  the  green  silk  purse,  with  the  shining  gold 
within.  The  whispered  utterance,  "Tak'  tent  o' 
that,"  was  the  only  message  that  accompanied  this 
strange  adventure.  The  man  was  off  before  she  could 
throw  aside  the  hood,  encumbered  as  she  was  with  the 
child;  and  there  in  her  lap  lay  the  purse  with  which 
her  husband,  scarce  an  hour  ago,  had  gone  into  the 
fair  to  purchase  his  cattle.  She  hastily  counted  the 
gold;  not  a  guinea  was  missing. 

She  was  frightened  and  unnerved  by  the  adventure; 
evidently  she  was  known  to  someone,  even  under  her 
disguise;  and  what  had  befallen  her  husband,  he  had 
been  robbed,  perhaps  murdered ;  her  impulse  was  to 
fly,  but  whither  should  she  go  encumbered  as  she  was 
with  the  child  and  her  disguise.  There  was  nothing 
for  her  to  do  but  to  summon  what  patience  and  cour- 
age she  could  muster  and  watch  for  Ailie  Duncan's 
return.  When  Ailie  came,  she  flew  to  meet  her, 
handed  her  over  the  child  and  hurried  toward  the 
fair;  and  her  fears  were  soon  allayed  by  the  sight  of 
her  husband's  stalwart  form,  among  a  group  of  traders. 

He  had  just  concluded  a  bargain  for  some  cattle 
and  was  standing,  with  a  horror-struck  face,  searching 
his  pockets  in  vain  for  the  green  silk  purse.     As  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  37 

look  of  blank  despair  settled  on  his  features  and  he 
gazed  with  vain  inquiry  into  the  faces  of  those  around 
him  for  a  solution  of  this  enigma,  there,  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  crowd,  stands  his  smiling  wife  ready  to 
extricate  him  from  this  predicament,  as  she  had  from 
others  less  serious. 

Pressing  her  way  through  the  crowd  she  counted 
out  the  price  of  the  cattle,  and,  taking  her  husband 
by  the  arm,  led  him  away  dumb  with  amazement  at 
the  loss  of  his  money  and  its  mysterious  restoration. 
As  they  rode  home  she  told  him  the  story  of  her 
strange  adventure.  And  home  with  them  we  must  go, 
in  order  to  solve  the  mystery  of  the  green  silk  purse. 


CHAPTER  III. 
"far  frae  court,  far  frae  care." 

THERE  was  in  the  employ  of  the  Laird  of  Stoney- 
wold  a  servitor  named  John  Gunn,  a  man  of  no 
mean  family,  although  its  fallen  fortunes  had  forced 
him  into  a  somewhat  lowly  position. 

There  was  no  gentler  blood  in  Ross-shire  than  that 
of  the  old  family  of  the  Gunns,  and  in  adversity,  they 
were  still  true  of  heart,  brave  and  honorable  in  mis- 
fortune, and  proud  of  their  ancient  lineage. 

With  this  same  John  Gunn  our  story  will  have  much 
to  do,  and  it  may  be  well,  at  the  outset,  to  get  some 
notion  of  that  manner  of  man  he  was.  Physically  he 
was  a  fine  type  of  his  sturdy  race,  standing  over  six 
feet  in  his  brogues,  somewhat  spare  in  person,  large- 
boned  and  sinewy,  with  great  power  to  endure  toil 
and  sustain  it  long;  his  clear  blue  eyes  were  honest 
and  searching  and  his  auburn  hair  was  thick  and 
curly,  like  a  young  bullock's  between  the  horns. 

There  was  a  shrewd  twinkle  to  his  eye  and  a  catch- 
ing smile  about  his  mouth  that  accorded  well  with  his 
speech;  for  he  was  a  man  of  few  words,  but  they 
were  well  chosen.  His  arms  were  long,  with  an  easy 
and  mighty  swing  to  them,  as  though  made  to  handle 
the  hammer  of  the  smith,  or  the  scythe  of  the  mower, 
or  the  quarter-staff  of  the  gypsy.     His  long  swinging 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  39 

stride  and  unflagging  trot  gave  one  the  impression  that 
it  was  as  easy  for  him  to  go  as  to  stand  still.  He  had 
trod  the  moors  when  he  was  young,  and  made  forced 
marches  in  his  time,  and  there  was  a  moorland  reach 
in  his  stride  mingled  with  a  military  precision,  sug- 
gesting that  it  would  be  no  trifle  to  arrest  his  steps, 
or,  for  that  matter,  to  make  him  keep  step  with  you. 

He  bore  the  sobriquet  of  "Long  Jock" ;  some  called 
him  "Lang  Louper,"  behind  his  back.  Men  shrank 
from  encountering  him  in  any  kind  of  contest,  for  his 
wit  was  searching,  and  his  knowledge  of  human  nature 
such  as  comes  from  intimate  acquaintance  with  men 
in  circumstances  that  stripped  them  of  conventional 
disguise  and  let  the  bare  man  show  through.  He  was 
familiar  with  scenes  that  try  the  fiber  and  tell  what 
strain  it  will  endure — border  skirmishes,  bold  dashes 
in  the  face  of  death  where  each  man  works  out  his 
own  salvation  or  is  lost,  long  marches  evading  hot 
pursuit;  scenes  where  faith  and  honesty  must  be 
relied  on  without  question,  and  a  man's  passing  word 
must  be  a  pledge  as  sacred  as  a  covenant  sealed  with 
blood. 

Hence  he  knew  men  well;  knew  the  moral  forces 
that  go  to  the  making  up  of  character  and  what  the 
resultant  of  certain  forces  was  like  to  be;  knew  how 
to  touch  men  so  as  to  sound  the  keynote  of  their  nat- 
ure, when  to  put  an  implicit  child-like  reliance  on 
them,  and  when  to  deal  with  crafty  caution  and  not 
commit  himself  to  them. 

He  was  a  good  judge  of  men  at  sight ;  for  there  was 
a  certain  quality  to  his  look,  right  into  the  eyes  of  a 
man,  and  a  meditative  manner  of  speech  (or  rather 


40  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

of  letting  himself  be  spoken  to)  which  gave  men  the 
impression  that  he  was  sifting  them  by  a  process  from 
which  there  was  no  escape;  and  they  were  wary  of 
trying  to  make  game  of  him.  When  once  his  word 
was  passed,  you  could  depend  upon  him  as  on  the 
coming  of  the  tide  up  Solway  Firth. 

He  knew  not  what  men  call  fear.  Whether  he  felt 
the  motions  of  it  in  his  breast  and  subdued  them 
before  they  reached  the  eye  or  cheek  or  any  outlet  that 
revealed  them  to  men,  or  whether  it  never  passed  his 
mind  to  be  afraid  of  man  or  beast  or  spirit,  none  could 
say;  but  he  had  faced  death  so  often  and  in  such  diverse 
forms,  that  the  familiar  thought  had  lost  its  terror. 

He  had  been  reared  among  the  stirring  echoes  of 
the  rising  of  17 15,  and  his  sturdy  spirit  responded  to 
them,  and,  following  the  traditions  of  his  family  and 
the  motions  of  his  own  nature,  he  had  enlisted  in  a 
Highland  regiment.  With  the  strong  instinct  of  his 
people,  recognizing  the  patriarchal  authority  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  clans  and  the  feudal  manner  in  which 
that  authority  was  maintained,  he  was  ready  to  yield 
devoted  adherence  to  the  despotic  sway  of  the  head  of 
the  clan ;  and,  if  the  prominence  of  his  family  had 
entitled  him  to  the  place  of  a  petty  chieftain  amenable 
directly  to  the  head  of  his  clan,  nothing  could  have 
swerved  him  from  his  loyalty;  but  the  fallen  fortunes 
of  his  family  entitled  him  to  no  higher  place  than  that 
of  a  common  soldier;  and  the  place  was  too  small  for 
the  man. 

He  enlisted  with  the  hope  that  he  should  thus  be 
made  ready  for  the  day  when  the  Highland  spirit 
would  assert  itself  against  the  Saxons,  who  were  fast 


.     A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  4 1 

converting  the  Lowlanders  into  a  nation  of  traders 
and  cowards.  Already  their  sacrilegious  hands  had 
been  laid  on  the  ancient  Highland  privileges;  they 
had  practically  disarmed  the  clans,  had  built  their 
forts  and  square  towers  through  tthe  Highlands  to 
overawe  them,  were  making  roads  and  spanning  the 
glens  and  burns  with  their  bridges,  in  order  to  subject 
the  Highlanders  to  English  sway. 

John  Gunn  had  enlisted  in  the  "Black  Watch,"  as 
the  English  called  the  Highland  regiment,  believing 
that,  under  a  Highland  chief,  he  was  to  serve  on 
Highland  soil  in  keeping  down  the  armed  vagrancy  of 
"the  broken  men"  (Highlanders  who,  owning  no  chief, 
wandered  in  marauding  bands),  and  against  such,  who 
repudiated  the  legitimate  patriarchal  authority,  he 
was  willing  enough  to  serve. 

But,  after  his  enlistment,  he  found  that  the  "Black 
Watch"  was  a  mere  name  with  which  to  ensnare  them  ; 
for  they  were  officered  by  Englishmen  and  Lowland- 
ers, and  the  terms  of  their  enlistment  bound  them  to 
serve  the  king  on  any  soil,  and  it  was  soon  whispered 
that  they  Avere  destined  for  foreign  service. 

Against  this  they  protested  that  they  had  been  kept 
in  ignorance  of  any  such  obligation  ;  and  they  com- 
plained of  broken  faith,  and  muttered  rebellion. 

"We  are  gentlemen,"  they  said,  "accustomed  to  be 
attended  by  a  gillie  from  the  humble  commoners  of 
the  clan,  and  our  blood  is  more  ancient  than  that  of 
many  of  England's  proudest  families." 

In  their  own  country  all  this  would  be  accorded 
them,  but,  in  other  lands,  they  would  be  on  a  level 
with  the  refuse  of  the  Saxon  peddlers. 


42  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Their  suspicions  were  confirmed  when  they  were 
ordered  to  take  the  route  to  England ;  and  it  was  a 
moot  question  whether  the  regiment  would  silently 
melt  away,  or  stoutly  refuse  to  move  a  step. 

The  discontent  was  allayed  by  the  flattering  assur- 
ance that  the  king  was  anxious  to  review  his  loyal 
Highlanders  in  their  unique  garb;  and  so  they  took 
up  their  march,  still  murmuring  discontent,  but 
cajoled  by  the  king's  desire  to  see  them. 

Their  march  southward  was  an  ovation,  if  the 
crowds  of  rustics  who  gathered  to  stare,  half  in  wonder, 
half  in  fear,  at  these  wild  mountaineers  in  their  strange 
attire,  could  be  accounted  a  tribute  of  admiration. 

When  they  reached  Finchley  Common  there  was  no 
king,  for  George  II.  was  conducting  a  campaign  on 
the  Continent.  Instead  of  the  king  there  was  a  gaping 
crowd,  who  received  them  with  abundant  evidence  of 
interest,  but  in  a  manner  that  was  galling  to  their 
pride.  They  found  themselves  objects  of  wonder  and 
derision  to  a  motley  rabble,  which  they  held  in  proud 
contempt.  Jeers  and  jibes  at  their  strange  attire  were 
followed  by  all  manner  of  practical  jokes,  which  cul- 
minated in  the  parade  of  a  regiment  of  half  grown 
lads  in  pantalets  and  striped  petticoats,  flaunting  ban- 
ners with  caricatures  of  the  clan  emblems,  and  singing 
ribald  doggerel  at  their  expense,  to  the  strains  of  a 
bagpipe  extemporized  from  a  blade  of  grass,  which 
from  time  immemorial  has  been  an  instrument  dear  to 
the  heart  of  a  boy.  This  crowning  indignity  to  their 
national  costume  and  music  was  in  such  form  that 
they  could  not  resent  it ;  but  it  drove  them  to  a  des- 
perate remedy. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  43 

It  was  John  Gunn  who  was  the  leader  in  planning 
and  executing  the  bold  maneuver. 

"Do  ye  see  yon  hirsel  o'  scabbit  gawkies?"  said 
John,  to  two  of  his  fellow-clansmen.  "Do  ye  mind 
their  toggery  and  how  they  fiyte  us  for  aliens?  Are 
they  ony  kin  to  us;  and  what  hae  we  to  do  fightin' 
the  battles  o'  the  kine  that  breed  sic  calves?" 

"Aye,  we  are  bound  on  a  fine  errand,"  said  Angus 
McLean;  "to  be  flouted  by  sic  a  pack  o'  gomerils. 
They'll  send  the  Highland  men  to  the  fore,  and  shel- 
ter their  thin  hides  frae  the  bullets  behind  a  bield  o' 
stout  men  and  true." 

"And,  gin  this  be  our  greetin'  frae  the  children,  on 
the  king's  ain  ground,  what  welcome  will  the  fathers 
gie  us  on  foreign  soil?"  growled  another. 

"They  say  that  the  Scots  are  aye  food  for  the 
Frenchman's  powder,  and  that  ane  o'  them  mak's  a 
breastwork  for  twa  Saxon  curs  to  cower  behind," 
threw  in  a  third  bystander. 

"Hoot  man,"  said  Angus,  "do  ye  speir  yon  blacka- 
moor, wi'  the  banner  o'  the  Black  Watch?  An'  I  had 
my  way  wi'  a  good  quarter-staff  I  wad  blacken  his 
hide  that  it  wad  last  him  mony  a  day,  and  to  the  hour 
o'  his  death  he  wad  remember  how  he  played  at  bein' 
ane  o'  the  Black  Watch." 

As  the  boys  pranced  around  the  outskirts  of  the 
camp,  with  a  mincing  gait  and  holding  out  their  skirts, 
singing  a  ribald  snatch  ending  with  the  refrain: 

"  Black  Watch,  Black  Watch, 
See  the  Highland  beggars  scratch," 

there  was  barely  discipline  enough  to  keep  the  more 


44  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

restive  spirits  from  breaking  through  all  military 
restraint  and  giving  their  tormentors  a  taste  of  High- 
land sinew.  Those  who  scorned  to  lay  hands  on  the 
rabble  were  full  of  bitter  indignation,  which  was  not 
allayed  by  the  evident  sympathy  of  the  masses  with 
these  idle  jesters. 

"Will  the  morrow  fetch  another  flock  to  mock  us 
wi'  new  devices?"  said  Angus.  "For  my  part,  I  am 
ready,  gin  I  hang  for  it,  to  show  them  how  a  Highland 
man  can  shoot.  Is  there  naught  for  us  to  do,  but 
stand  like  sheep  faulded  in  a  slaughter-bught?" 

"The  king  will  sell  us  to  the  Germans  or  put  us  in 
the  French  shambles,"  said  another. 

"For  my  part,"  said  a  third,  "I  wad  as  lief  be 
shot  for  garrin'  yon  gillies  ken  that  a  Highland  man 
kens  the  honor  due  his  land  and  can  defend  it,  as  to 
be  shot  down  defendin'  the  tradesman's  buntin'." 

"And  I  gie  my  consent,"  chimed  in  another,  "for 
a  loaded  gun  in  every  man's  hand  on  the  morrow,  and 
we'll  gie  them  a  Highland  salute  on  the  next  parade. 
Faith  that  wad  make  a  'black  watch'  in  earnest  for  the 
beggar  crew." 

One  after  another  gave  in  his  adhesion  to  this  plan 
with  a  tone  that  indicated  the  settled  purpose  of  men 
who  were  not  debating,  but  announcing  their  decision. 

John  Gunn  stood  silent,  after  the  first  few  words 
with  which  he  had  directed  their  attention  to  the  out- 
rage, gathering  his  impressions  of  the  temper  of  the 
men,  now  nodding  assent  to  one,  again,  with  a  look  of 
inquiry,  eliciting  the  sentiments  of  the  more  reticent 
of  the  group.  The  expression  of  his  face  was  calm 
but  dangerous. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  45 

"Lang  Jock,"  said  Angus,  turning  to  him,  "hae  ye 
naught  to  say?  Can  ye  speir  ony  better  way  than  to 
gie  yon  snaggerels  a  taste  o'  guid  powder  and  shot." 

"I  think  so,"  answered  John. 

"And  is  that  a'  the  speech  ye  can  spare  to  your 
comrades?"  replied  Angus  as  he  stood  gazing  on  the 
retreating  urchins.  "Gin  ye  wot  o'  a  better  way,  let 
us  hear  it  anon.  What  wad  ye  bid  us  do?  Bide  a 
wee  and  girn  and  bear  it?" 

"I  wad  leave,"  said  John. 

"And  by  whose  leave,  when  we  are  here  under  the 
king's  orders?"  retorted  Angus  testily. 

"Honor  bids  us  leave,"  answered  John. 

"And  wha  will  guide  us  the  way  and  tak'  command 
o'  the  troop?"  queried  Angus. 

"I  will  do  it,"  said  John;  "and,  gin  ye  swear  to 
follow,  I  will  swear  to  lead  ye." 

The  men  gathered  close  about  him,  as  he  lowered 
his  tone  and  detailed  his  plan,  appointing  his  lieu- 
tenants and  assigning  them  to  go  among  the  regiment 
and  inform  the  men  of  the  arrangements.  He  fixed 
the  time  of  the  departure  at  a  half  hour  after  mid- 
night, the  regiment  to  move  in  four  detachments,  each 
leaving  by  a  different  route,  and  to  rendezvous  a  mile 
away  from  camp.  They  were  not  to  encumber  them- 
selves with  anything  save  their  meal-pocks  and  their 
claymores,  were  to  turn  in  quietly  for  the  night,  and 
were  forbidden  to  gather,  even  in  small  groups,  to 
discuss  the  plan. 

All  this  John  detailed  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  as 
though  the  desertion  of  a  whole  regiment  were  an 
everyday  occurrence.     There  was  no  discussion,  he 


46  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

simply  announced  it  as  the  one  thing  to  do,  under  the 
circumstances,  and  it  was  accepted  in  the  same  spirit 
by  all  who  heard  him,  and,  in  fact,  by  almost  the 
entire  regiment. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that,  one  bright  May  morning, 
all  London  was  astounded  by  the  news  that  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  Highland  regiment,  from  which  the  gay 
citizens  of  the  metropolis  had  been  deriving  so  much 
amusement,  had  mysteriously  disappeared  in  the  night. 
The  wildest  rumors  were  afloat,  and,  with  no  small 
consternation,  it  was  suggested  that  this  was  the  initial 
step  of  another  rebellion;  and  ere  many  days,  this 
semi-savage  horde  might  return  with  reinforcements 
to  avenge  the  insults  heaped  upon  them ;  for  thus  did 
conscience  invent  for  the  wrong  doers  an  impossible 
retribution,  and  afford  the  Highlanders  a  temporary 
revenge  on  their  tormentors. 

Under  the  guidance  of  their  crafty  leader  they  were 
hastening  northward,  making  their  way  from  one 
waste  common  to  another,  by  forced  marches  at  night, 
lying  hidden  by  day,  and  shunning  the  highroads  and 
the  towns. 

They  were  past  Northampton  before  any  definite 
news  of  them  was  had  by  the  military  authorities. 
Here  and  there  some  rustic  was  impressed  as  a  guide, 
or  an  outlying  farm  was  levied  on  for  rations,  and 
wherever  men  fell  in  with  them,  on  lonely  roads  or 
barren  wastes,  they  inspired  a  terror  which  went  far  to 
repay,  with  compound  interest,  the  jeers  of  the  Saxons 
which  had  driven  them  to  this  escapade. 

From  Northampton,  where  their  necessities  had 
compelled  them    to  let    their  presence   be  known  in 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  47 

forays  for  subsistence,  they  marched  down  the  river 
toward  Peterborough. 

"Lang  Jock,"  though  barely  a  man  in  years,  had 
shown  himself  a  skillful  leader,  keeping  his  men  from 
marauding  (willingly  as  he  would  have  granted  them 
leave  to  plunder  the  foe),  because  he  knew  that  they 
would  not  be  left  to  go  their  own  way  in  peace,  and 
foraging  would  at  once  delay  the  march  and  adver- 
tise the  route.  With  this  argument  he  restrained  his 
men,  and  kept  them  busy  with  the  thought  and  oc- 
cupation of  reaching  their  own  Highland  fastnesses. 
On  the  third  day  they  were  encamped  on  the  north 
bank  of  the  Nen  about  half-way  between  Oundle  and 
Peterborough,  where  a  sharp  bend  of  the  river  pro- 
tected them  in  flank  and  rear.  It  was  John's  purpose 
to  lead  them  up  through  Lincoln  to  the  West  Riding 
of  York,  and  so  reach  the  Pennine  Hills,  where  they 
would  be  more  at  home  and  safer  than  on  the  flat 
lands;  thence  along  the  borders  of  Westmoreland  and 
Cumberland  to  the  Cheviot  Hills;  and,  when  once 
they  were  on  Scottish  soil,  to  let  them  disperse,  and, 
singly  or  in  small  bands,  make  their  way  to  the  High- 
lands. The  way  seemed  plain  enough,  but  John  had 
reckoned  without  his  host;  for  His  Majesty's  troops 
had  not  lain  idly  waiting  the  pleasure  of  his  liege 
Highlanders  to  go  or  come  at  their  whim. 

They  heard,  here  and  there,  rumors  of  pursuit,  and, 
on  the  evening  of  the  third  day,  the  troopers  came  in 
sight  and  their  captain  summoned  the  band  to  surren- 
der, which  summons  gained  emphasis  from  the  car- 
bines shining  at  their  saddle  bows,  while  the  Black 
Watch  carried  nothing  but  their  stout  claymores. 


48  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

The  night  was  falling;  John  had  his  men  well 
posted  in  a  copse  on  a  bit  of  rising  ground,  with  the 
river  in  his  rear.  Nothing  daunted  by  the  disparity 
which  their  lack  of  arms  created,  John  answered  the 
summons  to  surrender  by  an  offer  to  capitulate  on 
honorable  terms;  to  wit,  that  free  pardon  be  granted 
them  one  and  all ;  that  they  be  permitted  to  retain 
their  arms;  that  such  as  were  inclined  would  take 
service  in  the  king's  army  and  be  drafted  into  Eng- 
lish regiments;  that  such  as  preferred  service  on  Scot- 
tish soil  be  enlisted,  with  the  proviso  that  they  should 
be  called  on  to  undertake  no  foreign  service. 

To  this  demand,  made  with  the  calm  assurance  of 
the  commander  of  a  fortress  which  can  be  taken  only 
at  the  cost  of  time  and  men,  the  English  captain's 
answer  was  an  imperative  summons  to  unconditional 
surrender.  He  granted  them  the  night  to  ponder  on 
their  situation  and  prospects,  warning  them  that  by 
noon  of  the  morrow  their  day  of  grace  was  past ;  then 
he  posted  his  sentinels  and  retired  for  the  night  to 
Oundle. 

Then  was  the  spirit  of  John  Gunn  tried  as  by  fire. 
He  held  a  council ;  but  the  darkness  of  the  stormy 
night  seemed  to  brood  over  their  deliberations. 
Opinions  were  divided;  some  were  for  immediate  sur- 
render, others  for  accepting  the  issue,  sword  in  hand, 
and  fighting  their  way  through  the  Saxon  horde  and 
laying  waste  farms  and  villages  on  their  march  to 
Scotland,  leaving  behind  them  a  trail  blackened  with 
the  smoke  of  the  fires  they  had  kindled,  making  the 
Saxons  remember,  for  all  time,  the  march  of  the  Black 
Watch  for  freedom  and  Scotland. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  49 

But  John  Gunn  had  not  forgotten  the  tales  he  had 
heard  of  the  rising  of  1715,  with  the  disastrous  out- 
come of  brave,  but  raw,  levies  pitted  against  the  dis- 
ciplined soldiers  of  England. 

They  were  more  than  two  hundred  miles  from  Scot- 
tish soil,  and  another  one  hundred  and  fifty  from  the 
Grampians,  as  the  eagle  flies.  Burning  farms  and 
pillaged  towns  would  not  make  their  march  more 
rapid  or  unobstructed.  But  he  let  the  ferment  of 
feeling  bubble,  sure  that  the  scum  would  rise  to 
the  top,  and,  after  all  was  said  and  done,  he  would 
know  the  frothy  braggart  from  the  sound  and  solid 
men. 

When  near  an  hour  was  passed  in  this  turbulent 
sort  of  council  of  war,  Angus  McLean  appealed  to 
him  for  his  advice. 

"Ye  can  bide  wi'  the  king's  army  and  find  plunder 
and  plenty  in  the  foreign  wars,  or  ye  can  tak'  your 
life  in  your  hands  and  gae  to  Scotland.  These  are 
the  only  twa  ways;  and  ilka  man  maun  choose  for 
himsel'." 

There  was  a  dead  silence  after  these  few  words, 
broken  only  by  the  melancholy  croak  of  two  ravens, 
which  had  lit  on  the  tree  above  his  head,  whose  apt 
response  was  an  Amen  to  the  collect  recited  over  the 
grave  of  their  hopes. 

"Aye,"  said  John  grimly,  looking  up  at  the  ill- 
omened  birds,  '  'the  corbies  ken  where  the  carcass  is 
like  to  be." 

To  the  murmur  which  rose  from  some  who,  prefer- 
ring the  heroic  issue  of  the  adventure,  began  to  prate 
of  cowardice,  John  made   answer:   "Ye   canna   win 


5o  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

your  way  nigh  four  hundred  miles  to  the  Highlands, 
wi'  naught  but  claymores  agen  carbines.  If  ye  maun 
fight,  here  is  the  place  and  now  is  the  hour,  and  I'm 
ready  to  lead  ye." 

But  the  thing  was  so  hopeless,  on  the  face  of  it, 
that  there  was  no  response  to  his  invitation. 

The  majority  determined  to  surrender  on  the  un- 
conditional terms  which  were  all  that  were  accorded 
them.  As  for  those  who  discarded  this  prudent  solu- 
tion, it  was  understood  that  each  man  should  adopt 
such  means^of  escape  as  seemed  best  to  him,  without 
reproach  of  having  forsaken  his  comrades. 

And  so  the  darkness  settled  upon  them,  and  each 
man  that  chose  to  do  so  passed  the  sentinels  unchal- 
lenged and  unknown.  They  bid  one  another  farewell 
as  those  who  would  never  see  each  other's  faces  again, 
and,  without  malice  or  bitterness,  yielded  to  the  ne- 
cessities of  an  evil  hour ;  they  kept  inviolable  the  secret 
of  the  names  of  their  comrades,  when  the  morning 
light  told  them  which  of  their  number  wandered,  pro- 
scribed as  deserters. 

Six  of  them  were  chosen  and  put  to  death  as  exam- 
ples of  military  discipline;  a  part  were  sent  to  the 
West  Indies  and  the  remnant  to  Flanders,  where  they 
began  that  career  of  military  glory  for  which  the  Scot- 
tish regiments  have  ever  since  been  famous  in  the 
history  of  English  wars. 

The  lowering  day  which  had  shrouded  in  gloom  the 
last  hours  of  the  march  of  this  little  band  of  brave 
men,  grew  into  a  tempest  as  the  night  wore  on.  The 
wind  rocked  the  tree  tops  and  went  whistling  on  over 
the  fields.     It  was  Whitsuntide,  when  strange  sights 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  Sl 

and  sounds  are  abroad,  and  this  night  was  one  famous 
in  the  annals  of  the  north  of  England. 

The  night  was  pitch  dark,  save  for  transient  glimpses 
of  the  moon  through  the  cloud  rack,  and  from  sea 
and  land  came  tales  of  terror. 

One  old  chronicler  repeats  the  story  of  a  skipper 
driven  up  the  Sol  way  Firth  before  the  furious  blast, 
when,  by  the  dim  moonlight  through  a  broken  rift,  the 
lookout  reported  a  sail  moving  as  though  to  cross  their 
bow.  As  they  peered  into  the  darkness  there  loomed, 
between  them  and  the  horizon,  a  great  stage-coach 
with  a  retinue  of  coachmen,  footmen,  and  outriders 
bearing  torches  lit  with  a  pale  blue  flame. 

With  strange  clamor  of  shouts  and  cracking  of 
whips,  heard  above  the  rattle  of  the  cordage  and  the 
roar  of  the  storm,  the  coachman  drove  his  horses  at  a 
furious  speed  over  the  crests  of  the  waves,  in  the 
teeth  of  the  tempest.  Not  till  they  were  well  away 
did  the  skipper  gain  presence  of  mind  to  hail  the 
uncanny  craft.     "Where  from?"  he  shouted. 

The  answer  came  down   the  wind:    "From to 

Collyn."  The  port  of  departure  was  heard  clearly 
enough  by  every  man  of  the  crew;  but  none  was  bold 
enough  to  repeat  it  above  his  breath. 

It  was  a  fearful  night,  when  warlocks  and  witches 
held  high  carnival  and  there  was  a  revelry  of  '  'bogle- 
wark." 

The  hag  is  astride 
This  night  for  to  ride 
Though  ne'er  so  foul  be  the  weather  ; 
In  a  dirty  hair  lace 
She  leads  on  a  brace 
Of  black  boar-cats  together. 


52  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

Frightful  personages  and  nameless  things,  says  the 
old  chronicler,  came  trooping  from  every  quarter, 
below  and  aloft;  the  trough  of  the  sea  was  full  of 
them. 

Headless  horsemen  furiously  galloping  came  from 
the  clouds.  At  noon  of  night  the  Specter  Dog  of 
Man,  the  dread  Mauthe  Hounde,  came  forth,  whose 
bark  bodes  ill  to  passing  ships.  All  then  hasted  to 
the  spot  where  the  haunted  ships  of  the  Solway — which 
float  only  at  such  times — had  risen  with  all  sails  set 
and  each  one  tenanted  with  a  ghastly  crew;  the 
streaming  lights  of  their  cabins  shone  through  the 
darkness,  and  the  sound  of  wild  mirth,  the  clamor  of 
tongues,  the  unearthly  whoop,  halloo,  and  song  rang 
far  and  wide  across  the  sea. 

From  the  specter  ships  there  were  shriekings  cast 
That  were  heard  above  the  stormy  blast. 

It  was  on  this  night  that  the  brief  life  of  the 
"Black  Watch"  came  to  an  end,  when  the  powers  of 
earth  and  the  demons  of  air  were  leagued  to  disperse 
them. 

As  for  John  Gunn,  he  let  each  man  choose  his  way 
without  further  hindrance,  and  made  his  own  choice 
without  asking  counsel  of  any.  He  thirsted  not  for 
glory  in  foreign  wars  and  would  rather  die  in  Scot- 
land than  live  in  any  other  land;  so,  amid  the  tem- 
pest, in  the  darkness  just  before  the  dawn,  he  rose 
silently  and  left  the  camp,  made  his  way  to  the  river 
and  started  northward  down  the  stream.  He  put  a 
good  five  miles  between  himself  and  the  camp  before 
venturing  to  leave  the  water;   and  lay  hidden  all  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  53 

next  day  in  a  copse  on  the  further  side  of  the 
river. 

By  long  and  weary  night  marches,  he  pursued,  alone, 
the  route  which  he  had  laid  out  for  the  band.  On 
the  sixth  day,  even  his  powers  of  endurance  were 
being  tasked  to  the  utmost,  having  covered  the  stretch 
of  the  West  Riding  of  York  to  the  north  side  of  the 
Pennine  Hills,  near  the  Westmoreland  borders.  Here 
and  there  he  had  ventured  to  spend  the  night  in  a 
cow-shed  or  stable  and  help  himself  to  the  fodder 
from  the  bins ;  but  it  was  dry,  hard  fare,  and  his  lusty 
stomach  craved  a  more  savory  diet,  and  his  ears 
thirsted  for  human  speech. 

On  the  border  of  the  North  Riding  he  fell  in  with  a 
band  of  gypsies  encamped  on  the  edge  of  a  waste  com- 
mon. The  savory  smell  of  roasting  fowl  was  wafted 
across  the  hollow  to  where  John  lay  asleep  among 
some  hayricks,  and  it  mingled  with  his  dreams  and 
set  his  mouth  to  watering  after  a  most  uncomfortable 
fashion. 

The  penetrating  odor  had  filled  his  brain  with  vis- 
ions of  feasting,  until  the  pangs  of  hunger  broke  the 
bands  of  his  heavy  sleep,  and  he  woke  to  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  must  have  meat  to  eat,  cost  what  it 
might. 

Following  the  scent  as  true  as  a  hound  on  the  trail 
of  a  deer,  he  reached  the  brow  of  the  little  eminence 
behind  which  the  gypsies  were  encamped,  and  lying 
flat  down,  he  snaked  his  way  through  the  furze  until 
he  could  see  who  they  were  that  had  baited  the  even- 
ing air  with  such  a  captivating  odor. 

When  he  saw  that  they  were  gypsies  his  heart  leaped 


54  A   HIGHLAND  CHRONICLE. 

up,    and   rising  to   his   feet  he   went  boldly  to  the 
camp. 

Though  they  were  an  outcast  race,  by  Scottish  law, 
yet  there  was  a  glamour  about  the  gypsy  life,  there 
was  a  pride  of  race  and  loyalty  to  the  band,  near  akin 
to  the  Highlander's  notions  on  these  points.  As  a 
boy,  John  had  wandered  among  their  bands  at  the 
market  fairs,  ridden  their  ponies,  admired  their  feats 
of  skill  and  strength,  and  had  not  disdained  to  take  a 
lesson  from  them,  now  and  again. 

He  had  picked  up  a  few  words  of  their  strange 
jargon  and  was  familiar  with  their  boasted  descent 
from  old  Scottish  families,  and  knew  the  old  proverb 
"Ye  may  gang  through  a'  Egypt  wi'out  a  pass"; 
which  means  generosity  to  the  distressed  who  throw 
themselves  on  their  kindness ;  faith  kept  at  any  cost 
with  him  who  trusts  them;  and  the  passport  to  their 
friendship  need  only  be  a  trinket  given  by  a  gypsy,  or 
a  few  words  of  their  wild  lingo,  or  lacking  these,  a 
simple  appeal  to  their  protection. 

If  they  were  a  proscribed  race,  he  was  a  proscribed 
man.  What  better  fate  was  in  store  for  him  than  to 
cast  in  his  lot  with  them,  discard  his  tartan  plaid,  and 
don  the  leather  apron  of  the  tinkler. 

As  he  came  upon  them,  spent  and  weary  with  his 
wanderings,  their  camp  looked  homelike;  so  he  went 
forward  and  won  their  good-will  with  his  opening 
words: 

"Ye  are  men  o'  Little  Egypt.  I  hae  kenned  them 
in  my  ain  land,  and  I  ken  'The  Tinklers  are  a'  sib.' 
I  am  far  frae  my  hame  and  am  hunted  by  the  king's 
men  as  a  deserter,  and  I  wad  fain  forego  their  near 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  55 

acquaintance  and  enter  the  service  o'  the  Lord  and 
Earl  o'  Little  Egypt." 

His  honest  speech  and  evident  necessities  made 
instant  appeal  to  the  gypsy  spirit;  he  had  quoted  one 
of  their  favorite  proverbs,  and  called  them  by  an  hon- 
orable name;  he  was  a  recruit  from  King  George's 
army  to  the  service  of  the  Lord  and  Earl  of  Little 
Egypt — all  this  opened  their  hearts  to  him  instantly. 

At  that  moment,  had  a  detail  of  troopers  come  over 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  armed  with  the  king's  warrant  to 
take  the  body  of  John  Gunn,  they  would  have  had  to 
fight  every  man,  woman,  and  boy  of  the  Lochgellie 
band. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
"a  horn  spoon  hauds  nae  poison." 

AS  fate  would  have  it,  John  had  fallen  in  with  a 
section  of  the  famous  Lochgellie  band.  They 
prided  themselves  on  their  historic  distinction  and 
noble  Egyptian  ancestry,  and  denounced  the  great 
rival  clan  of  the  Baillies  as  "nothing  better  than 
thieves  and  vagabonds."  They  owned  a  farm  of  forty 
acres  of  waste  land,  not  far  from  the  village  of  Loch- 
gellie, on  which  they  had  built  a  cluster  of  huts,  which 
were  the  winter  quarters  of  the  band,  and  a  small 
foundry  for  casting  plowshares  and  iron  utensils; 
hence  the  settlement  had  received  the  name  of  "Little 
Carron."  The  bleak  heathy  morasses  and  wide  rushy 
wastes  made  this  winter  camp  well-nigh  inaccessible 
for  the  six  months  of  the  year  during  which  they  in- 
habited it. 

The  roving  section  of  the  band  had  been,  during 
the  winter,  on  a  visit  to  their  brethren  at  Yetholm, 
where,  in  a  sequestered  vale  of  the  Cheviot  Hills,  was 
another  very  old  settlement  of  Egyptians.  Having 
made  an  excursion  thence  in  the  early  spring,  still 
farther  southward  in  England,  they  were  now  on  the 
return  march  to  the  north  whenjohn  came  upon  them. 

The  chief  of  the  band  was  old  Andrew  Faw,  or  Faa 
(as  they  preferred  to  have  it  spelled),  who  claimed 

56 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  57 

lineal  descent  from  that  famous  John  Faa,  the  "Lord 
and  Earle  of  Little  Egypt"  with  whom  James  V.  in 
1540  made  a  league,  under  writ  of  Privy  Seal,  grant- 
ing unto  this  "Prince  or  Rajah"  certain  rights  and 
powers  of  discipline  and  government  over  his  own 
subjects.  In  view  of  the  later  proscriptive  legislation 
of  Scotland,  the  tribe  had  found  it  prudent  to  ex- 
change their  ancient  family  names  for  less  distinctive 
patronymics;  but,  with  true  gypsy  pride,  they  chose 
some  of  the  best  names  of  Scotland,  and  the  Doneas, 
Fingos,  Neyens,  Fincos,  and  Beigies  became  Gra- 
hams, Stewarts,  Robinsons,  Jamiesons,  Browns,  and 
Ruthvens. 

Andrew  Faa  ruled,  with  all  the  simplicity  and 
effectiveness  of  the  patriarchal  system,  over  this  rest- 
less band;  while  Elspeth,  his  wife,  exercised  a  sway 
no  less  potent,  by  virtue  of  her  gifts  as  a  spaewife. 
Indeed,  had  it  come  to  an  issue  between  them,  there  is 
little  question  that  the  unseen  powers  at  her  command 
would  have  enforced  her  authority,  even  in  the  face 
of  the  more  substantial  weapons  of  retribution  in  her 
husband's  hands.  The  old  chief  himself  was  more  in 
dread  of  Elspeth's  vague  and  undetermined  powers, 
than  she  was  of  the  weight  of  her  husband's  cudgel. 

This  traveling  section  of  the  band  was  known  as  the 
"Scrapies, "  a  name  suggestive  of  the  nature  of  their 
calling.  Andrew  always  personally  superintended 
their  roving  expeditions;  they  were  the  most  impor- 
tant and  delicate  part  of  their  calling,  and  it  needed 
all  the  prudence  and  authority  of  the  chief  to  direct 
and  control  them  with  judgment.  To  him  the  booty 
was  brought,  with  an  exact  report  of  when  and  how 


58  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

and  from  whom  it  was  taken;  upon  his  decision,  from 
which  there  was  no  appeal,  rested  the  division  of  the 
spoil  among  the  plunderers  and  the  reservation  for 
their  brethren  in  the  winter  camp. 

Andrew  and  Elspeth  had  one  daughter,  Helen  Faa, 
a  wild,  swarthy,  black-haired  girl  of  eighteen,  with 
great,  liquid  eyes,  like  the  waters  of  a  mountain  tarn, 
dark  and  deep,  but  full  of  flashing  light  when  they  are 
stirred.  She  was  mobile  and  restless  as  a  wandering 
breeze,  and,  like  a  deer,  alert  when  seemingly  at  rest. 
There  was  a  vein  of  quick  and  refined  sensibility  in 
her  nature,  the  outcrop,  perchance,  of  the  gentle 
blood  which  the  Faas  boasted  was  mingled  in  their 
race  from  the  famous  "Gaberlunzie  Man,"  as  they 
called  Scotland's  eccentric  king  who  played  mad 
pranks  disguised  in  a  beggar's  garb. 

Helen  was  not  their  only  child;  her  brother  had 
been  looked  upon  by  all  the  tribe  as  the  natural  suc- 
cessor to  the  present  chief.  He  was  four  years  older 
than  Helen,  a  type  of  the  manly  beauty  for  which 
their  tribe  was  noted;  tall,  slim,  of  wiry  and  athletic 
build,  with  small  hands  and  long  tapering  fingers,  well 
shaped  feet,  with  fine,  delicate  features  and  a  rest- 
less, telling  eye,  he  was  certainly  a  handsome  young 
fellow,  with  a  high-bred  air;  and,  whether  it  came 
from  the  Stuart  blood  or  no,  he  had  the  gift  of  that 
ill-starred  family  to  make  men  his  devoted  followers. 

About  two  years  before  this,  in  a  wayward  spirit  of 
rebellion  at  his  father's  strict  rule,  he  had  slipped 
away,  in  the  night,  to  try  his  hand  at  a  country  fair. 
There  was  the  usual  accompaniment  of  such  gather- 
ings, a  recruiting  officer,  and  Willie  Faa  fell  in  with 


A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE.  59 

him  and  listened  to  his  tales  of  war  and  the  splendors 
of  army  life,  and,  when  drunk  with  the  sergeant's 
liquor,  took  the  "king's  shilling"  and  enlisted.  A 
short  acquaintance  with  the  drill  of  the  raw  recruits 
and  the  rigors  of  barrack  life  sufficed  for  this  wild 
bird,  and  he  started  to  leave  the  king's  service  as  he 
had  left  his  father's  camp;  but  His  Majesty  had  pro- 
vided for  such  emergencies,  and  when  at  the  sentry's 
call  Willie  declined  to  halt,  he  was  shot  and  killed  on 
the  spot.  They  gave  over  the  poor  boy's  body  to  the 
band  from  whose  protection  he  had  fled,  and,  with 
wild  lamentations  from  old  Elspeth  and  muttered 
curses  from  the  rest  of  the  band,  they  mourned  for  the 
darling  of  their  tribe,  and,  besides  their  own  strange 
funeral  rites,  secured  Christian  burial  for  the  lad  in 
the  kirkyard  of  Lochgellie. 

When  the  question  arose  as  to  John's  admission  to 
the  band,  old  Andrew,  while  he  knew  that  the  power 
lay  with  him  as  patriarch,  exercising  both  regal  and 
priestly  functions,  to  decide  it ;  yet,  lacking  the  pro- 
phetic gift,  he  retired  with  Elspeth  to  seek  counsel  of 
the  fates;  while  the  women  gave  John  his  supper  in 
the  camp. 

Old  Elspeth  had  been  touched  by  John's  appeal  as 
no  one  else  in  the  camp  had  felt  it.  He  was  the  age 
of  her  own  and  only  boy  when  he  was  taken  from 
her,  aod  it  was,  in  some  sort,  a  restitution  when  this 
fine  young  man  was  cast  upon  their  mercy,  a  waif 
from  that  army  which  had  ruined  her  hopes.  The 
lack  of  gypsy  blood  did  not  lessen  her  interest  in  him  ; 
for  she  herself  boasted  of  the  Stuart  blood  in  her  veins 
and  ascribed  the  grace  and  beauty  of  her  wild  fawn, 


60  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Helen,  to  the  outcropping  of  this  strain  of  gentle 
blood.  Her  mind  was  fairly  made  up  when  Andrew, 
stepping  inside  her  tent,  said: 

"Aweel,  spaewife,  what  hae  ye  to  say  anent  yon 
stripling?     Shall  he  bide?" 

The  cautious  prophetess  replied,  "Ye  ken  him  bet- 
ter than  I;  for  ye  hae  seen  him  nigh  hand,  and  I  only 
frae  afar." 

"Aye,"  said  Andrew,  paying  court  to  her  Sybilline 
fame,  "but  ye  can  see  frae  afar,  and  ken  what  was 
and  what  is  and  what  shall  be." 

"What  was,"  answered  Elspeth,  in  the  low  mono- 
tone which  she  assumed  when  the  prophetic  mood 
came  over  her,  "is  already  come  to  pass,  and  none 
can  mak'  it  ither;  what  is,  every  man  kens  wha  has 
his  e'en  open;  what  is  to  be,  the  Lord  and  Earl  o' 
Little  Egypt  has  power  to  say ;  and  we  wha  own  his 
rule  maun  aye  submit." 

This  portentous  tone  always  overawed  Andrew. 
Her  face  became  set,  her  eyes,  dull  and  lusterless, 
seemed  to  retire  within  their  sockets,  and  her  voice 
had  a  deep,  uncanny  resonance. 

"But  ye  ken  weel  eneuch,  spaewife,  that  the  Lord 
o'  Little  Egypt  winna  set  his  face  agen  the  powers  wha 
rule  the  affairs  o'  men,  and  wad  fain  ask  frae  them 
whether  the  comin'  o'  this  man  will  be  for  the  weal  or 
woe  o'  the  band,"  said  Andrew,  sure  that  he  had 
cornered  the  prophetess. 

"It  is  aye  well  for  a  band  when  the  chief  can  trust 
everyone,  and  woe  for  a  band  when  there  is  ane  in  it 
wha  he  doubts,"  answered  the  fendy  Elspeth,  deter- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  6 1 

mined  to  discover  Andrew's  wish,  and  to  make  it  the 
father  of  her  thought. 

"The  chief  o'  a  band  can  aye  trust  the  man  wham 
the  higher  powers  hae  sent,"  said  the  wary  old  chief. 

Elspeth  paused  and  with  the  lean  forefinger  of  her 
right  hand,  in  mysterious  silence,  traced  the  lines  of 
her  left  palm;  then,  rocking  herself  to  and  fro,  in  a 
crooning  tone,  as  to  an  unseen  presence,  she  began, 
while  Andrew,  awed  into  silence,  listened  to  the  pro- 
phetic utterance. 

"The  wild  bird  had  bigged  her  nest  on  the  edge 
o'  the  moor  and  brooded  owre  her  nestlin's  till  they 
were  fine  grown,  and  the  young  bird  was  a  hawk  on 
the  wing;  but  the  hunter  trappit  it,  and  he  was  shot 
as  he  fled  frae  the  snare,  and  the  wee  ane  was  left 
alone. 

"There  cam'  to  the  nest,  'twixt  mirk  and  gloamin', 
a  braw  eaglet  wha  had  broken  the  snare,  weary  and 
spent  he  cam'  and  askit,  Is  there  place  for  me?  He 
cam'  frae  the  south  where  the  saft  winds  blaw  and 
melt  the  ice  and  snaw  and  gar  the  waters  rin  again." 

There  were  great  teardrops  in  her  eyes;  Andrew 
began  to  understand  the  parable,  and  gave  a  sigh, 
half  of  compassion,  half  of  defiance. 

"Elspeth,"  he  said;  she  was  now  the  mother  of  his 
boy,  "I  ken;  but  what  say  the  fates?" 

She  recked  not  of  the  fates;  the  mother  had  gotten 
the  victory  over  the  prophetess. 

"I  ken  naught  what  the  fates  say,"  she  cried,  in  a 
frenzied  voice.  "They  say  to  me,  Spaewife,  follow 
thy  heart!     They  say  to  me,  as  1  say  to  you,  Andrew 


62  A  HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Faa,  when  was  it  e'er  a  token  o'  guid  luck  for  a  band 
of  Egyptians  (wha  are  naught  but  wanderers  on  the 
face  o*  the  earth)  to  turn  the  homeless  frae  their  tents? 
When  was  there  e'er  guid  luck  in  the  gold,  or  guid 
cheer  in  the  food,  ta'en  frae  the  puir  or  the  widow  or 
the  faitherless?  And,  gin  ye  let  this  chiei  gae  to  be 
ta'en  and  shot  as  my  laddie  was  shot,  then  the  blude 
o'  baith  will  be  on  your  hands.  I  can  spae  that — it  is 
comin' — I  see  it  noo — there  is  blude,  there  is  blude — 
it  rins  down  frae  your  hands — it  is  risin' — aye,  it 
rises  fast — ye  are  standin'  knee-deep  in  the  red  flood 
— it  will  soon  rin  owre  your  head — speak,  man,  speak 
quick,  I  tell  ye,  and  say,  I  tak'  this  wanderer  to  be 
my  son  and  brother — speak  it;  and  see  if  the  red  tide 
falls." 

She  rose  in  an  ecstasy  and  pointed,  through  the 
tent-flap,  to  the  sunset  sky  suffused  with  a  blood-red 
color ;  and  old  Andrew,  under  the  spell  of  her  wild 
invocation,  gave  the  required  pledge.  After  he  had 
spoken,  she  stood  watching  the  sky  intently,  while  the 
evening  wind  made  the  leaves  sigh  softly. 

"The  tide  falls,"  at  last  she  said,  with  solemn  ex- 
ultation. "The  blude  is  fadin',  and  I  see  gold  in 
plenty."  Sure  enough  the  crimson  had  turned  to 
gold.  The  prophetess  sank  on  the  floor;  and  the 
mother's  tears  fell  soft  as  the  summer  rain.  Andrew 
stood  for  a  few  moments  looking  at  her,  in  awe- 
stricken  silence,  and  then  tiptoed  out  of  the  tent. 

He  saw  John  Gunn,  the  center  of  a  group  of  gypsy 
men  who  were  drinking  in  his  story  of  the  short  life  of 
the  Black  Watch ;  and  it  pleased  Andrew  to  see  that 
he  stood  taller,  by  a  head,  than  any  of  the  men  about 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  63 

him ;  and  his  heart  went  out  toward  this  youth,  with 
the  yearnings  of  a  strong  nature  giving  vent  to  a  feel- 
ing long  repressed. 

He  came  near  the  group,  and,  with  a  tone  of 
authority,  none  the  less  emphatic  because  of  the  slight 
tremor,  said: 

"I  hae  spiered  o'  the  fates  what  their  will  is;  and 
Queen  Elspeth  has  had  a  vision  anent  this  lad;  and 
gin  we  let  him  gae,  I  maun  wade  to  my  chin  in  blude, 
and  gin  he  bides  wi'  us,  there  is  a  sight  o'  gold.  He 
has  ta'en  our  salt  and  told  us  his  story,  puttin*  his  life 
in  our  hands;  and,  for  the  honor  o'  Little  Egypt,  let 
us  see  that  he  loses  it  only  when  there  is  nane  o*  us  to 
stand  by  him. 

"John  Faa,"  he  said,  turning  to  John  ;  "for  by 
this  name  we  will  call  thee,  I  gie  thee  the  hilt  o'  a 
dagger  which  was  worn  by  John  Faa  o'  great  fame; 
and  this  night  we  will  tak'  thee,  wi'  feastin'  and  danc- 
in',  into  the  service  o'  the  Lord  and  Earl  o'  Little 
Egypt." 

John  dropped  on  one  knee  before  the  old  chief, 
kissed  the  blade  of  the  dagger,  and,  as  he  rose,  thrust 
it  into  his  belt. 

Outside  the  group  stood  Helen  Faa,  and  John  caught 
a  flash  of  light  from  her  dark  eyes,  full  of  wonder  at 
the  strange  scene,  and  they  thrilled  him. 

The  band  were  no  ways  loath  to  accept  this  conclu- 
sion of  the  adventure,  for  when  will  a  gypsy  forego  the 
chance  of  feasting  and  good  cheer.  So  one  after  an- 
other came  forward  with  some  token  for  John ;  it 
mattered  not  if  it  were  only  a  button  cut  from  their 
jacket,  it  bound  them  as  companions  in  arms  for  life, 


64  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

or  until  the  return  of  the  gift  annulled  the  compact. 
He  was  assigned  a  tent  with  three  other  men  of  the 
band,  and  the  more  effectually  to  identify  him  with 
his  new-found  friends,  old  Elspeth  came  out  of  her 
tent,  and,  with  great  ceremony  and  muttered  incanta- 
tions, anointed  his  hands,  neck,  and  face  with  a  dark 
brown  stain,  which,  with  his  previous  weather  bronz- 
ing, gave  him  a  true  gypsy  tinge;  but  she  could  not 
change  the  tint  of  his  clear  blue  eyes. 

They  provided  him  with  the  ordinary  ragged  outfit 
of  the  gypsy,  the  long  leathern  apron  and  the  tools  of 
the  horner's  and  tinkler's  trade,  and  also  furnished 
him,  from  their  stores,  with  three  complete  outfits  of 
gentleman's  attire,  in  any  one  of  which  it  would  be 
hard  to  recognize  the  man  whom  you  had  met  but  a 
half  hour  before. 

The  costume  for  state  occasions,  like  the  present, 
was  gorgeous  with  all  the  splendor  of  color  and  rich 
adornment  which  the  gypsy  loves.  There  was  a  white 
wig,  a  soft  broad-brimmed  hat  with  a  white  plume,  a 
shirt  ruffed  at  the  front  and  trimmed  on  the  cuffs  with 
fine  lace,  a  scarlet  waistcoat  and  breeches,  white 
stockings,  shoes  with  silver  buckles,  and  a  long  green 
velvet  coat  trimmed  with  white  fur,  with  a  single  row 
of  large  pearl  buttons  down  the  front. 

In  costume  of  similar  magnificence  all  the  gypsy 
men  were  arrayed;  but  Andrew  and  John  alone  wore 
the  white  cockade.  The  women  wore  short  red, 
green,  or  blue  petticoats  reaching  a  little  below  the 
knee,  with  a  fine  show  of  gold  and  silver  bangles, 
earrings,  necklaces,  and  brooches,  with  white  ker- 
chiefs, and  silk  or  satin  bodices. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  65 

The  children,  in  their  scarlet  or  green  dresses  and 
with  bangles  and  earrings,  looked  like  brownies  come 
to  disport  themselves  on  the  surface  and  display  some 
of  their  hoarded  wealth. 

The  camp  was  lit  with  four  fires,  placed  north, 
south,  east,  and  west,  to  "purify  the  wind  from  every 
airt"  and  shed  radiance  on  the  festivities,  which  were 
opened  with  a  stoup  of  strong  home-brewed  ale,  a 
contribution  from  the  last  farmhouse  honored  by  their 
visitation;  after  the  ale  a  judicious  portion  of  some 
smuggled  Holland  gin  was  administered,  under  An- 
drew's strict  supervision;  enough  to  quicken,  not 
retard,  their  activity  as  dancers. 

Andrew  and  Elspeth,  with  John  between  them,  took 
their  seat  in  the  middle  of  the  large  ring  inclosed  by 
the  four  fires;  the  rest  of  the  band  flung  themselves 
on  the  ground,  in  small  groups,  on  the  outer  edge  of 
the  circle. 

Tom  Ruthven  brought  out  his  fiddle  and  struck  up 
the  old  tune  of  "The  Hunts  of  Cheviot."  Out  from 
the  surrounding  darkness  came  Jamie  Stewart,  wield- 
ing his  stout  oak  cudgel,  and,  taking  his  stand  in  the 
center,  with  a  deep,  guttural  "Hoogh!  Hoogh!" 
summoned  four  of  the  gypsy  girls,  Posie  Nansie, 
Racer  Jess,  Bouncer  Jean,  and  Helen,  who  had  no 
nickname. 

They  stood  in  front  of  the  four  fires,  poised  lightly, 
with  their  bare  ankles,  bedecked  with  gold  anklets, 
showing  beneath  their  short  silk  and  velvet  skirts. 
With  their  arms  akimbo  on  their  hips,  the  firelight 
glittering  in  their  dark  eyes,  they  swayed  softly  to  and 
fro,  as  if  rocked  by  the  wind  in  rhythm  with  the  music. 


66  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Jamie  Stewart,  with  his  cudgel  now  whirling  in  his 
hands,  now  flying  twenty  feet  in  the  air,  but  never 
once  touching  the  ground,  went  through  the  wild 
measures  of  the  gypsy  national  dance,  the  counterpart 
of  the  Highland  fling  and  the  fisher's  hornpipe;  but 
never  did  Highlander  or  fisher  so  leap,  and  bound, 
and  writhe,  and  twist,  and  flash  like  a  beam  of 
swarthy  light,  as  did  the  lithe  and  tireless  son  of  this 
strange  race. 

When  this  first  movement  was  ended,  at  a  sign  from 
Jamie,  the  dark  statues,  which  had  swayed  to  the 
rhythm  of  his  dance,  were  drawn  toward  him,  as  he 
faced  each  one  and  plied  his  cudgel  with  blows  so 
swift  and  strong  that  they  seemed  unavoidable. 

Lightly  the  girls  tripped  toward  him,  as  though 
drawn  by  magnetism  in  among  the  whirling  strokes, 
until  they  seemed  to  be  enveloped  in  a  maze  of  flying 
oaken  sticks — they  came  as  the  tide  comes,  steady 
and  swift,  then  ebbed  away  from  him  with  an  easy 
motion,  and  stood  swaying  to  the  music  as  though 
they  had  not  stirred. 

John  looked  on  in  amazement.  He  thought  that 
he  knew  the  gypsies;  but  he  had  never  seen  anything 
like  this.  The  swift  whirl  stirred  his  blood,  until  it 
was  Helen  Faa's  turn  to  be  drawn  into  the  whirlwind 
of  blows,  any  one  of  which,  as  the  wind  of  it  stirred 
her  dark  tresses,  if  it  fell  a  hair's  breadth  closer,  would 
lay  her  a  corpse  at  his  feet — then  John  did  not  like 
the  sport  and  wished  it  would  end. 

The  dance  ended  in  a  whirl  of  swift  and  intricate 
figures;  and,  in  the  indistinguishable  throng,  ever 
and  anon,  John  saw  the  firelight  glisten  in  the  eyes  of 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  67 

Helen  Fan.  Into  this  closing  dance  the  whole  band 
was  gradually  drawn  ;  while  the  three  sat  in  the  cen- 
ter with  Jamie's  cudgel  flying  now  over  their  heads, 
and  again  over  the  heads  and  among  the  dancers. 
If  any  flagged  the  cudgel  was  the  baton  with 
which  Jamie  gave  the  laggard  stout  encourage- 
ment. 

As  the  night  wore  on  Elspeth  sat  watching  the 
stars;  for,  when  Sirius  was  in  the  ascendant,  the 
waters  of  the  Nile  rose  in  Eygpt  and,  in  the  home 
of  their  fathers,  divine  honors  were  paid  to  him ; 
and  therefore  under  this  star  Elspeth  always  prophe- 
sied. 

At  a  sign  from  her  they  ceased  dancing,  and  gath- 
ered in  a  group  near  the  center.  Elspeth  took  a  silver 
cup  full  of  a  decoction  of  her  own  brewing,  stale  sea- 
water  in  which  bitter  herbs  were  steeped,  and  a  drop 
of  blood  from  Andrew's  little  finger  to  give  it  the 
greater  virtue.  She  muttered,  in  the  gypsy  tongue, 
while  she  sprinkled  John  on  the  right  arm,  breast,  and 
forehead,  and  gave  him  the  rest  of  the  decoction  to 
drink.  It  was  unpalatable  stuff;  but  John  drank  it 
bravely. 

Then  Elspeth  kissed  him  on  the  eyes,  hung  a  silver 
sixpence  of  a  lucky  date  around  his  neck,  and  gravely 
saluted  him  as  "Been  Rajah."  One  by  one  the  band 
came  forward,  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  welcomed 
him  into  their  fellowship  with  the  salute  "Beenship 
davies  Nawken"  (Good-day  to  you,  gypsy). 

Helen  Faa  came  last  of  all,  and  John  felt  the  thrill 
of  her  warm,  strong  hand  as  it  lingered  in  his  for  a 
moment.     John  knew,  after  this  ceremony,  that  he 


68  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

was  a  gypsy,  but  did  not  know  that  the  queen  of  the 
gypsies  had  put  him  in  the  direct  line  of  succession, 
as  a  Rajah  eligible  to  the  chieftainship  of  the  band. 

To  crown  the  festival  a  stoup  of  the  "mountain 
dew"  was  called  for;  and,  after  this,  the  revel  ran 
high  in  honor  of  their  adopted  brother. 

The  cudgel  was  now  in  old  Andrew's  hands,  who 
drank  sparingly,  and  used  his  wand  of  power  without 
stint  to  check  the  brawls  of  the  women  as  well  as  the 
men,  and  gave  them  reason  to  remember  his  reproofs 
after  they  were  well  over  the  effects  of  their  potations. 

John  received  his  first  lesson  in  the  rude  but 
effective  discipline  of  the  Lords  of  Little  Egypt, 
which  went  on  the  old  time  principle  of  sparing  not 
the  rod. 

John  noted  that  Andrew,  Elspeth,  and  Helen  kept 
aloof  from  the  revel,  and  thought  to  himself,  "Aye, 
even  among  these  Lords  o'  the  Fens  and  Moors,  guid 
blude  will  haud  its  ain  place.  The  lass  Avill  aye  bide  a 
princess,  gin  she  live  in  ha'  or  hovel,"  and  it  was  a 
pleasant  thought. 

The  progress  of  the  band  was  now  northward, 
through  Westmoreland  and  Cumberland,  over  the  Sol- 
way,  through  Dumfries  and  Lanark  to  Linlithgow,  and 
so,  across  the  Forth,  to  Lochgellie. 

There  they  were  to  tarry,  for  a  week  or  so,  to  make 
ready  their  outfit  for  the  summer  tour,  northward 
through  Fife  and  Forfar  to  the  romantic  region  of 
Braemar  in  Aberdeenshire.  Here  at  the  foot  of  old 
Cairngorm,  in  the  forest  of  Glen  Avon,  was  a  favorite 
summer  camping  ground,  from  which  they  sent  out 
small  parties  to  attend  the  summer  fairs.     Beside  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  69 

camp  ran   the  clear  flowing  Avon,  of  which  the  old 
proverb  says: 

The  water  of  A'an  it  rins  sae  clear 
'Twould  beguile  a  man  o'  a  hunder  year. 

And  of  the  glen  a  queen  writes:  "It  is  a  solitude 
at  once  so  wild,  so  solemn,  so  serene,  so  sweet." 

On  this  northward  march  John  was  doomed  to  an 
inactive  life,  for  it  was  deemed  best  for  him  to  remain 
in  camp,  and  even  retire  to  a  tent  on  the  approach  of 
any  stranger.  For  prudence  is  the  gypsy's  strong- 
hold, and  his  cue  is  to  shun  all  conflict  with  the 
powers  that  be. 

There  remained  for  the  active  spirit  of  John  no 
more  exciting  occupation  than  to  become  an  adept  in 
the  tinkler's  art  of  mending  and  the  horner's  trade  of 
fashioning  and  polishing  the  spoons  and  other  utensils 
of  this  handicraft. 

The  monotony  of  this  life  was  relieved  by  the 
sports,  which,  in  the  evening,  were  inaugurated  by 
the  young  men  for  their  own  practice  and  for  the 
amusement  of  the  women.  In  these  John  acquitted 
himself  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  friends.  At  wrest- 
ling, putting  the  stone,  throwing  the  hammer,  and  golf, 
none  could  count  on  winning  when  John  was  among 
the  contestants,  and  he  slung  the  gypsy  men  in  a  way 
to  make  them  wary  how  they  grappled  with  him. 
Where  mere  strength  was  concerned  John  had  not  his 
peer  in  the  band,  but  many  of  them  were  more  quick 
of  hand  and  foot  than  he.  He  soon  won  a  place  of 
honor  among  this  band  of  athletic  young  men;  but 
it  was   Helen's   smile   of   applause   for   which   John 


70  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

watched ;  and,  as  he  laid  one  after  another  of  the 
stalwart  young  gypsies  on  the  sward,  they  were 
trophies  cast  at  Helen's  feet. 

She  was  often  his  tutor  at  the  homer's  trade,  which 
is  the  women's  work;  and  as  she  taught  him  to  polish 
the  rough  horn  spoons  a  careless  touch  of  her  hand 
would  thrill  him,  or  leaning  over  his  shoulder  with 
merry  chiding  of  his  awkwardness,  her  warm  breath 
against  his  cheek,  or  the  touch  of  a  wandering  tress, 
would  set  his  pulse  beating  such  a  tattoo  as  made  him 
clumsier  than  ever.  Her  merriment  increased  his 
confusion  and  the  spell  of  her  beauty  grew  more  en- 
chanting, as  her  dark  eyes  glowed  and  her  white  teeth 
shone  between  her  parted  lips;  and  John  found  the 
apprenticeship  to  the  homer's  trade  the  bonniest 
thing  a  man  could  be  put  at. 

No  wonder  that,  with  plenty  of  spare  time  on  his 
hands,  and  thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  John 
should  fill  up  some  measure  of  that  time  sitting,  in 
the  spring  days,  under  the  hedgerows,  well  apart  from 
the  camp,  and  pour  into  the  willing  ears  of  Helen  Faa 
the  tale  of  his  adventurous  life;  nor  was  it  strange 
that  she  loved  to  listen  and  that  John  became  a  hero 
in  her  eyes. 

They  were  sitting  thus  one  evening,  on  the  edge  of 
a  meadow,  a  mile  away  from  camp;  the  even-song  of 
the  birds  and  the  murmur  of  the  brook  attuned  John's 
heart  to  thoughts  of  love.  The  sun  had  dropped 
behind  the  Ochil  Hills,  and  they  swam  in  a  purple 
haze,  outlined  against  a  daffodil  sky.  John  had  been 
repeating  the  story  of  his  boyhood,  his  enlistment,  and 
his  short  but  stirring  military  life,  Helen,  with  unflag- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  71 

ging  interest,  following  the  adventures  of  her  hero, 
when  John,  turning  to  her,  said : 

"But  I  mind  me  aye  o'  my  Highland  hame,  o'  its 
hills  that  were  braw,  and  the  bonnie  burn  that  wimpled 
down  the  glen;  where  I  ken  ilka  path  and  stane.  I 
can  see  it  noo,  the  wee  hut  wi'  the  byre  beside  it,  my 
ain  sma'  cot  under  the  leaves  where  the  mornin'  sun 
keekit  in  and  wauked  me  to  look  out  owre  the  glen 
asleep  under  the  early  mist.  Ah !  it  was  bonnie. 
And  ye  hae  nae  hame  to  remember,  Helen?"  he  said 
in  a  tone  of  gentle  pity. 

"I  was  born  on  the  edge  o'  a  meadow  like  this, 
under  a  hawthorn  hedge,  wi'  the  broad  blue  sky  for  a 
roof,  where  I  needed  nae  window  to  see  the  sun,  and 
the  hame  o'  the  bird  is  mine — the  free,  open  air," 
answered  Helen. 

"Aye!  but  a  man's  heart  clings  to  his  birthplace, 
and  the  wide  world  is  an  unco'  big  house  for  siccan 
sma'  creatures  as  we,"  replied  John. 

"I  was  born  as  the  fallow  deer  are  born,  where  the 
hawthorn  blossoms  are  sweet  and  the  crimson  tips  of 
the  daisies  are  scattered  in  the  meadow;  my  cradle 
was  the  sweet  fern,  and  I  was  bathed  in  the  clear, 
cold  burn  ;  and  I  know  and  love  my  birthplace  as  the 
deer  love  theirs;  and  it  is  not  a  bit  of  ground  shut  in 
by  hard  stone  walls,  but  the  broad  Scots  land;  and 
every  hillside  is  my  hame,"  answered  Helen  proudly. 

John  marveled  at  the  wayward  spirit  of  this  un- 
tamed creature,  that  resisted  the  thought  of  a  pent-up 
house  even  as  a  shelter  for  her  babyhood. 

"Do  you  ken  what  it  is  for  the  heart  to  rest  on  ane 
place  or  thing?"  said  John,  with  a  sort  of  despair  of 


72  A   HIGHLAND    CIIROXICLE. 

finding  any  common  ground  between  this  wild  fawn 
and  himself. 

"I  ken  what  it  is  to  love  the  trees  and  the  gow- 
ans,  the  rocks  and  the  hills,  and  the  wild  deer  as  they 
leap,"  said  Helen,  in  an  exultant  tone. 

"Aye!  but  they  are  a  kittle  lot.  We  catch  a  glint 
o'  them  as  they  skit  by ;  but  they  arena  a  thing  to 
set  ane's  heart  on,"  and  John  thought,  as  he  said 
it,  that  his  words  belied  the  motions  of  his  own 
heart. 

"Helen,"  he  continued,  "ye  hae  listened  aftwhiles 
to  my  story,  and  I  hae  been  connin'  anither  tale  in 
the  glint  o'  your  sun-bright  e'en.  I  ken  what  it  is  to 
love  summat  besides  rocks  and  trees  and  fallow  deer," 
and  he  reached  out  his  hand  and  took  hers,  while  she 
sat,  in  uncertain  wonder,  neither  resisting  nor  re- 
sponding to  his  overtures.  Her  soft,  dark  hand,  with 
its  taper  fingers,  lay  clasped  in  his;  she  did  not  seem 
to  mind  it,  but  waited  for  what  he  would  say  next. 
John  did  not  know  what  to  say,  and  hence,  as  often 
happens,  said  the  honest  truth,  in  the  most  direct  way. 

"Helen,  I  love  ye,  as  man  can  only  love  a  woman. 
With  my  whole  heart  I  love  ye."  He  paused  for  an 
answer  but  none  came.  Her  face  was  full  of  gladness 
as  she  looked  him  in  the  eye  without  blushing,  her 
hand  resting  in  his,  but  she  uttered  not  a  word. 
"Helen,"  he  said,  releasing  her  hand  that  he  might 
clasp  her  waist,  "Helen,  will  ye  be  my  ain  wife?" 
She  opened  her  eyes  wide,  leaped  to  her  feet,  burst 
through  the  hedge  and  bounded  away  like  a  deer.  It 
was  all  so  sudden  that  John  was  left  with  outstretched 
arm  and  his  lips  ready  for  a  kiss,  and  nought  but  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  73 

evening  air  to  receive  his  embraces.  Had  she  given 
him  a  stout  blow  on  the  head  with  a  cudgel,  it  would 
not  have  left  him  so  completely  dazed. 

He  sat  for  a  few  moments  thinking  it  all  over;  he 
knew  the  ways  of  many  a  wild  creature,  but  this  one 
was  past  finding  out;  then  he  rose,  sadder  but  no 
wiser,  and  walked  slowly  home. 

As  he  drew  near  the  camp,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Helen,  behind  a  tent,  looking  for  his  return  and  fur- 
tively watching  his  every  movement;  and  he  was 
sorely  puzzled. 

That  evening,  at  the  wrestling  match,  there  was  a 
brawl  growing  out  of  a  dispute  between  two  of  the 
young  fellows  as  to  whether  the  fall  was  a  fair  one; 
and  quick  as  thought  the  quarrel  spread  until  a  free 
fight  was  in  progress,  the  women  meanwhile  scream- 
ing encouragement  to  one  party  or  the  other  and  the 
whole  camp  in  a  pother  of  wild  excitement.  Into  the 
melee  strode  John  Gunn,  and  with  a  stout  oak  cudgel 
was  cooling  the  ardor  of  one  and  another  of  the  com- 
batants by  well-directed  blows,  when  one,  more  fran- 
tic than  the  rest,  struck  John  a  blow  with  his  poniard, 
which,  glancing  from  his  cheek,  drove  the  point  of 
the  blade  into  his  shoulder  and  laid  open  a  wound 
from  which  the  blood  flowed  freely,  and,  at  the  same 
moment,  a  swinging  blow  from  a  cudgel  on  the  other 
side  laid  him  senseless  on  the  grass. 

Helen,  who  was  watching,  with  glowing  eyes  and 
parted  lips,  the  noisy  fracas,  gave  one  piercing  scream 
as  she  saw  John  fall,  and,  rushing  into  the  midst  of 
the  combat,  threw  herself  upon  him,  spreading  out 
her  arms  to  shield  him.     This  stopped  the  fight,  and 


74  A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

the  rioters  drew  off  to  one  side,  leaving  Helen  cower- 
ing over  John. 

Then  was  love  born  in  the  heart  of  this  gypsy 
maiden,  and  while  she  moaned  over  him  as  lost,  he 
won  her,  without  word  or  look,  to  a  love  that  was 
fierce  and  wild,  but  strong  as  death. 

John  was  severely  wounded  and  lost  blood  enough 
to  weaken  him  for  several  days.  Old  Elspeth  minis- 
tered to  him  with  her  rough  leechcraft,  stanching  the 
flow  of  blood  with  a  poultice  of  vinegar  and  salt,  the 
sting  of  which  had  the  virtue  of  a  quick  restorative. 

During  these  days  of  weakness,  when  John  sat  list- 
lessly about  the  camp,  or  lay  stretched  on  the  sward, 
feeling  giddy  and  helpless,  Helen  hung  about  him 
like  a  faithful  collie,  watched  him  with  wistful  looks, 
ran  to  fetch  him  fresh  water  from  the  spring,  shaded 
his  eyes  from  the  sun  or  fanned  him  with  a  branch  of 
leafy  birch  when  he  slept,  and,  in  every  way  in  which 
she  could  mutely  testify  her  love,  made  John  glad. 

It  was  too  delightful  to  have  her  thus  ministering  to 
every  want  for  John  to  dare  risk  this  happiness  by 
any  word  of  love,  but  his  eyes  were  brimful  of  the 
tender  passion. 

One  evening,  as  he  lay  stretched  on  the  grass  with 
Helen  sitting  by  his  side,  he  spoke  of  the  riot,  how 
his  head  swam  and  his  eyes  grew  dim,  "And  in  the 
midst  o'  it,  I  woke  half-way  and  had  a  blink  o'  joy  sae 
sweet  that  I  thocht  I  was  in  heaven,  and  an  angel  was 
hangin'  owre  me  wi'  outstretchit  arms  to  shield  me 
frae  demons  fightin'  around  me.  And  I  wadna  ken 
to  choose,  Helen,  whether  it  isna  bonnier  to  dee  wi'  sic 
a  vision  o'  ane  you  love  cowerin'  o'er  ye,  than  to  live 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  75 

and  see  her  rin  frae  ye  like  a  frichtened  deer."  He 
closed  his  eyes  and  lay  there  ashen  pale,  in  the  fading 
light  of  the  gloaming,  as  if  about  to  realize  his  wish, 
and  take  his  last  look  on  life  in  the  eyes  of  the  woman 
he  loved. 

It  was  no  stroke  of  art  on  honest  John's  part;  but 
he  could  not  have  played  to  his  audience  better. 
Helen  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  pressed  her 
warm  lips  to  his,  and  made  passionate  appeal  to  him 
to  come  back  and  bide  with  her.  "I  will  be  your 
wife,  John.  I  will  love  you  better  than  the  wild  deer 
loves  the  forest,  or  the  laverock  the  morning  air.  I 
will  follow  you,  John,  as  the  bee  follows  the  scent  o' 
the  wild  thyme.  I  will  live  for  ye,  die  for  ye,  and 
when  they  mak'  your  grave  will  be  buried  at  your 
feet.  O  John!  ye  winna  gang  awa',  but  bide  wi' 
your  ain  Helen." 

Never  was  cordial  distilled  by  human  art,  pressed  to 
the  lips  of  the  dying,  that  wrought  with  such  quick 
potency  as  did  the  kisses  of  the  lovely  Egyptian  on 
the  prostrate  form  of  John  Gunn.  He  rose  up  with 
the  color  mounting  to  his  face,  his  heart  beat  high,  he 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  gave  back  her  life-giving 
kisses,  with  a  power  which  had  no  suggestion  of  the 
fainting  creature  of  a  few  moments  before. 

Helen  was  proud  of  the  strength  with  which  he  held 
her.  It  was  masterful,  making  her  feel  that  she  was 
his,  and  she  gloried  in  being  bound  in  such  bonds, 
and  was  glad  to  feel  that  the  fetters  were  stringent. 
After  this  she  gave  herself  up  to  making  John  realize 
that  she  was  his,  and  that  no  service  was  too  constant 
or  exacting  to  testify  her  devotion  to  him. 


76  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Camp  life  was  no  longer  irksome,  for  Helen  was 
full  of  pretty  devices  to  pass  the  time  and  make  John 
feel  that  life  with  her  was  not  a  weariness.  She  sang 
in  a  sweet,  wild  way,  strumming  a  guitar  in  a  simple 
accompaniment.  She  taught  the  children  dances  for 
John's  amusement;  she  could  recite  many  a  Border 
ballad  and  had  a  fund  of  gypsy  tales  picked  up  in 
their  wanderings,  and  was  well  versed  in  the  lore  of 
their  tribes.  But  above  all  there  was  herself,  quick 
and  variable  as  the  light  of  a  summer's  day  on  the 
ocean,  now  blue  as  the  skies  above  it,  now  green  with 
its  own  emerald  tint,  anon  purple  with  the  flitting  of 
the  cloud  shadows  over  it,  then  white  with  the  fresh- 
ening breeze — changeful  but  constant,  and,  in  all 
moods,  still  lovely  to  the  eye. 

They  went,  on  the  next  day,  to  old  Andrew  Faa 
and  told  him  that  they  had  plighted  their  troth ;  he 
blessed  them,  with  the  air  of  a  patriarch,  and  sent 
them  to  Elspeth  that  she  might  "dower  them  wi'  guid 
luck";  and  she,  nothing  loath,  loaded  them  with 
prophetic  riches. 

The  marriage,  so  far  as  the  gypsy  rite  was  con- 
cerned, was  the  simple  announcement  to  the  assem- 
bled band  by  old  Andrew  that  John  and  Helen  Faa, 
who  stood  in  sight  of  them  all,  had  chosen  one  another 
as  husband  and  wife,  and,  in  order  that  the  law  of  the 
land  might  recognize  them  as  such,  they  would  be 
wedded  by  a  minister  of  the  Scottish  Kirk.  This  was 
done  at  the  county  town  of  Cupar;  after  which  a  levy 
was  made  on  Andrew's  store  of  strong  liquors.  Thus 
was  forged   another   link   in    the   chain   that   bound 


A  HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  77 

together  the  fortunes  of  John  Gunn  and  the  Lochgel- 
lie  band. 

During  their  further  journey  northward  their  life 
was  varied  with  few  adventures,  for  they  were  press- 
ing steadily  on,  to  be  in  season  for  the  summer  fairs, 
where  the  gypsy's  harvest  is  reaped. 

John  watched  with  lively  interest  the  training  of 
the  children  to  be  quick  of  eye  and  deft  of  hand.  He 
soon  learned  that,  according  to  the  gypsy  code,  the 
great  crime  was,  being  found  out.  Nor  was  this  so 
far  away  from  the  old  law  of  the  Border,  where  dis- 
grace attached,  not  to  the  laird  who  had  fitted  out  a 
predatory  excursion,  but  to  him  who  failed  in  carrying 
it  to  a  successful  issue. 

He  watched  the  brown  youngsters  as  they  were  put 
upon  their  mettle  to  acquire  a  light  and  easy  touch. 
A  pair  of  breeches  were  suspended  on  a  cord  stretched 
between  two  poles;  on  these  a  bell  was  hung  and  in 
one  of  the  pockets  a  small  coin  was  hidden.  If,  with- 
out ringing  the  bell,  the  deft  youngster  could  search 
the  pockets  and  extract  the  coin,  the  sixpence  was  his 
reward;  but  if  the  bell  were  rung  the  reward  was 
meted  out  to  him  with  a  birch  rod. 

This  exercise  was  varied  by  laying  a  coin  in  open 
sight  of  all  the  family,  to  be  taken  without  detection, 
under  the  same  system  of  reward  and  punishment. 

By  the  time  they  reached  Braemar,  John  had  a 
pretty  fair  insight  into  gypsy  life,  and  the  training, 
government,  and  discipline  of  the  band.  He  found 
them  true  to  their  word;  just  and  generous  where 
friends  were   concerned;  implacable  in  avenging  an 


78  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

injury;  ready  to  help  the  friendless  and  often  lavish 
to  the  poor,  but  always  prepared  to  levy  on  the  rich  ; 
believing  that  the  world  owed  them  a  living  and  that 
they  must  not  be  too  scrupulous  in  collecting  the 
tribute. 

As  for  their  religion — it  was  like  that  of  some  other 
people,  hard  to  find. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  REMEMBER,   MAN.    AND   KEEP  IN   MIND, 
A   FAITHFU'   FRIEND   IS   HARD   TO   FIND." 

SHORTLY  after  they  were  settled  in  their  camp  at 
Braemar,  old  Andrew  died,  and,  under  Elspeth's 
potent  influence,  John  was  chosen  as  his  successor; 
not  without  strong  opposition,  however,  and  the  kind- 
ling of  bitter  jealousies. 

Jamie  Stewart,  the  master  of  the  revels,  aspired  to 
rule  more  than  the  dances  of  the  band,  and,  as  some 
surmised,  bore  John  no  good-will  for  carrying  off 
Helen  Faa  before  his  eyes.  Whether  this  infused 
venom  into  his  spite  or  no,  certain  it  was  that  he  bore 
John  a  grudge,  and  took  every  opportunity  to  show 
the  cloven  foot,  and  to  fan  any  smoldering  discon- 
tent among  the  others. 

John  saw  and  felt  this  very  quickly,  and  watched 
his  chance  to  force  an  issue  where  he  could  assert  and 
maintain,  or  forfeit,  his  place  as  chief  of  the  tribe. 

They  had  buried  old  Andrew  in  the  quiet  kirkyard 
of  Invergowan,  where  he  would  be  in  goodly  company 
with  many  an  old  family  name. 

At  the  request  of  John,  the  Rev.  Gordon  McDon- 
ald had  come  to  the  dying  chief.  It  was  with  some 
difficulty  that  John  had  persuaded  Elspeth  that  it 
could  do  Andrew  no  harm  to  see  the  minister. 

"He  can  tell  him  summat  o'  the  world  where  he 


So  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

must  gang  when  he  quits  this.  There  is  a  river  to 
cross;  and  he  kens  the  ford  o'  the  stream,"  said  John, 
suggesting  such  practical  features  as  would  give  Els- 
peth  a  notion  of  the  value  of  Christian  counsel  in  view 
of  a  journey  to  the  other  world. 

"Has  he  been  in  Egypt;  and  does  he  ken  when 
the  Nile  rises  and  fa's?"  queried  Elspeth,  dubious 
still  of  his  merits  as  a  guide  to  the  unknown  land  of 
her  forefathers. 

"He  has  traveled  far  and  wide,  I  ken;  and  his 
Bible  tells  o'  the  land  o'  Egypt  in  ancient  days,"  said 
John. 

"Weel,  aweel,  gang  ye  and  fetch  him,  while  I  tie  a 
witch-knot  in  Andrew's  hair  and  brew  some  broth 
that  will  be  a  spell  agen  any  cantrips  o'  the  parson;" 
and  she  went  into  the  tent  and  prepared  the  old  man 
to  meet  the  minister's  bogies  scatheless. 

John  found  Mr.  McDonald  in  the  study  of  his 
manse,  near  the  gray  old  church.  His  study  win- 
dows looked  on  the  churchyard,  and  beyond  to  the 
quiet  meadow  bordered  with  birches,  over  the  tops  of 
which  peeped,  here  and  there,  the  roofs  of  the  long, 
straggling  village.  The  peace  and  quiet  of  the  scene 
were  often  woven  into  the  minister's  sermons,  who  read 
his  Master's  teachings  not  only  in  his  word,  but  in 
his  works,  and  in  the  lives  of  his  fellow-men. 

John  had  his  misgivings,  as  he  entered  the  garden 
gate,  as  he  recalled  the  description  which  old  Sandy 
Brown,  the  sexton  and  minister's  man,  had  given  him 
of  what  a  grand  man  the  minister  was  at  the  doctrines. 

"He  is  aye  keen  to  scent  a  heretic  as  a  hound  at  a 
hare,  and  uncommon   zeelyous  for  the  five  cardinal 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  Si 

points.  It  wad  do  ye  guid,  man,  to  hear  him  flay  a 
heretic ;  ye  couldna  pyke  your  teeth  wi*  the  bits  that 
are  left.  And  he  doesna  merely  splinter  him  to 
pieces,  he  fairly  grinds  him  to  powder  and  wi'  ane 
mighty  breath  blaws  the  dust  o'  him  to  every  airt. 
Oh!   it  is  grand,  man." 

John  bethought  him  of  these  glowing  descriptions 
of  the  minister's  disintegrating  power  on  heretics,  and 
his  heart  misgave  him  as  to  the  fate  of  a  gypsy  chief 
at  the  hands  of  such  a  stanch  defender  of  the  Pres- 
byterian faith  and  order. 

But  he  was  never  afraid  to  face  a  man  on  an  honest 
errand,  and  so  he  went  up  to  the  study  door  and 
knocked. 

"Come  ben,"  said  a  hearty  voice,  whose  tone  was 
a  welcome. 

He  found  the  minister  with  his  eyes  a-twinkle  over 
a  letter  he  was  writing,  whose  margin  was  enlivened 
with  comic  pictures  from  his  facile  pen,  taking  the 
place  of  pages  of  description. 

"Weel,  my  guid  friend,  how  can  I  serve  ye  the 
day?"  and  his  broad  face,  fringed  round  with  whisk- 
ers, but  clean  shaven  on  the  cheeks  and  upper  lip, 
beamed  kindly  on  John ;  and  the  smile  on  his  full 
round  lips  endorsed  his  tone  of  welcome.  John  felt 
at  home  immediately. 

"I  hae  come  on  an  errand  which,  mayhap,  it  winna 
please  ye  to  undertake,"  said  John. 

"I  am  bidden  by  my  Master  to  serve  a'  men  as  I 
hae  opportunity,"  said  the  minister.  "But  what 
may  this  uncanny  errand  be?" 

"Aye,  I  fear  me  ye  may  ca'  it  uncanny,  when  I  tell 


82  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

ye  that  it  is  to  minister  religion  to  a  dying  gypsy 
chief,"  said  John. 

"Na,  freend,  I  ca'  that  guid  wark  ;  and  I  will  gae 
to  it  right  willingly,"  was  the  minister's  hearty 
response. 

"But  ye'll  not  find  the  man  sicker  on  the  doctrines 
o'  grace,"  said  John,  feeling  his  way.  "I  doubt 
whether  ye'll  find  him  sure  that  there  be  ony  God  at 
all,  to  whom  we  can  pray." 

"Then,  freend,  let  us  hurry  to  him  before  it  is  too 
late  to  tell  him  o'  these  things.  We  ministers  maun 
aye  bide  firm  in  the  path  o'  truth,  or  we  maun  lead 
the  hale  hirsel  astray;  but  our  hearts  arena  shut 
against  the  strayin'  ones  wha  canna  see  as  we  see.  I 
carena  whether  a  man  kens  God  or  no;  if  so  be  that 
he  wad  find  him,  then  I  am  wi*  him.  I  wad  fain 
mak'  him  see  as  I  do,  but  if  he  canna,  then  I  will  gae 
wi'  him  as  far  as  we  can  gae  thegither,  and  trust  that 
our  paths  will  meet  beyond.  Let  us  gae  to  your  gypsy 
freend,  and  I'll  tell  him  about  the  Saviour  wha  didna 
require  that  men  should  ken  God,  but  that  they 
should  want  to  ken  him.  I  will  tell  him  the  story  o' 
the  thief  on  the  cross,  and  hoo  the  Lord  said:  'They 
that  are  weel  need  nae  doctor,  but  only  the  sick 
folk.'" 

So  John  led  him  to  the  gypsy  tents,  and  the  gentle- 
hearted  minister  offered  the  dying  chief  such  consola- 
tion and  instruction  as  his  dim  notions  of  religion 
enabled  him  to  receive. 

Perhaps  his  ardent  wish  made  him  so  sure  that  his 
message  of  peace  did  find  its  way  to  the  murky  re- 
cesses of  old  Andrew's  fading  consciousness. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  83 

But  there  was  no  question  that  he  gave  the  old 
chief  Christian  burial ;  and  the  tribe  held  a  lyke-wake 
for  him,  after  their  own  wild  fashion. 

When  the  seven  days'  mourning  was  ended  an  elec- 
tion was  held,  and  John  was  chosen  chief,  under  old 
Elspeth's  dominant  influence,  which  some  of  the 
men  were  inclined  to  resent,  yet  not  to  the  point  of 
braving  her  power  and  putting  the  tribe  under  the 
spaewife's  ban. 

Jamie  Stewart,  who  voiced  the  discontent  by  which 
he  hoped  to  profit,  took  occasion,  a  few  days  later,  to 
impugn  the  allotment  of  the  spoil  from  one  of  their 
forays. 

Turning  to  John  his  swarthy  face  dark  with  sup- 
pressed rage,  "Ye  ken  weel  to  feather  your  ain  nest 
wi'  a  double  portion,  pickin'  frae  the  rest  and  makin* 
ready  for  the  time  when  ye'll  grab  a'  the  meat  and 
gar  us  lick  the  banes." 

"Jamie  Stewart,"  said  John  quietly,  "no  man  is 
free  to  say  that  I'm  not  fair  in  dealin'  wi'  ye  a'.  Ye 
can  mak'  guid  your  words,  or  ye  can  tak'  them  back 
into  your  fause  mouth."  John  spoke  in  a  tone  that 
would  not  brook  evasion. 

Jamie,  nothing  loath,  took  up  the  wager  of  battle. 
"I'll  mak'  them  guid,  and  the  band  shall  see  which  is 
fause,  you  or  me.  Haena  ye  waled  ane  portion  for 
yoursel'  and  anither  for  auld  Elspeth,  and  doesna 
every  man  ken  that  ye  are  ane  family,  and  ane  portion 
is  your  due,  as  to  a'  the  rest;  and  ye  tak'  twa?" 

"For  this  ye  tell  me  I'm  not  fair  in  partin'  the 
spoil?  Hae  ye  clean  forgot  the  years  when  Andrew 
Faa  was  leader  o'  this  band?     Do  ye  mind  the  time 


84  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

when  ane,  Jamie  Stewart,  wasna  sae  deft  o'  hand  but 
that  he  was  caught  in  the  act  o'  thievin'  and  caged  in 
Linlithgow  tolbooth,  wi'  a  short  shrift  before  him; 
and  Elspeth  Faa  went  into  the  prison,  wi'  a  rope 
braided  in  her  hair,  and  a  man  named  Andrew  Faa 
waited  under  the  wall  wi'  a  horse,  on  which  he  set 
this  carle  Jamie,  and  himsel'  trusted  to  his  ain  stout 
legs?  Gin  ye  arena  leal  to  a  fallen  chief,  ye  maun 
remember  hoo  these  twa  saved  your  thankless  neck 
frae  the  tether,  or  ye  hae  nae  right  to  be  ca'd  an 
Egyptian,  but  only  a  thief  and  a  vagabond." 

A  smile  went  round  the  band  as  John  laid  bare  the 
mean  spirit  of  his  adversary,  while  the  scowl  grew 
blacker  on  Jamie's  face. 

"I  winna  let  sic  words  pass  the  lips  o'  a  foundlin* 
that  cam*  as  a  beggar  amang  us,  not  lang  syne,"  said 
Jamie  furiously. 

"Such  words  will  aye  pass  my  lips  when  ony  man 
plays  the  part  o'  a  coward  and  forgets  what  belongs 
to  the  dead,"  answered  John,  looking  the  furious 
gypsy  calmly  in  the  eye. 

As  Jamie  sprang  forward  a  step,  John  went  to  meet 
him.  The  rest  of  the  band  stood  breathless,  while 
Elspeth  and  Helen,  drawn  from  their  tents  by  Jamie's 
loud  voice,  watched  like  tigresses  the  outcome  of  the 
affair. 

"Jamie  Stewart,  ye  may  gang  to  your  tent,"  said 
John  sternly. 

"I  winna  stir  a  step  for  a  Hieland  beggar!" 
screamed  Jamie. 

Quick  as  a  flash  fell  John's  blow,  with  the  cudgel 
he  had  seized;    but  not  quick  enough  to  catch   the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  85 

wary  young  fellow,  who  swerved  aside;  and,  as  John 
lunged  forward  with  the  impetus  of  his  aimless  stroke, 
Jamie's  ringing  blow  came  down  athwart  his  shoul- 
ders, almost  felling  him  to  the  ground. 

Then  the  play  of  quarter-staff  began  in  real  earnest. 

Jamie's  blows  were  swift  and  sure,  but  John  was 
stanch  to  meet  them,  and  kept  the  vantage  of  a  cool 
head.  He  wasted  no  more  strength  in  cudgeling  at 
Jamie,  but  gave  himself  wholly  to  parrying  the  gyp- 
sy's furious  onset.  At  last,  maddened  beyond  all 
caution,  Jamie  rushed  in,  hurling  a  storm  of  blows  at 
close  quarter,  and,  becoming  more  unwary  as  his  foe 
seemed  inclined  to  retreat,  pressed  closer,  when  sud- 
denly John  flung  down  his  cudgel,  and  rushing  in  on 
Jamie,  clasped  him  round  the  waist  and  raising  him 
high  in  the  air  dashed  him  heavily  to  the  ground, 
where  he  lay  limp  and  unconscious  at  John's  feet. 

As  John  turned  from  his  fallen  foe,  how  Helen's 
eyes  glowed  on  him.  Without  another  look  at  Jamie's 
prostrate  form,  John  went  on  with  the  distribution  of 
the  spoil,  allotting  to  Jamie  his  full  share,  and  bid- 
ding them  take  it  to  his  tent,  whither  they  had  car- 
ried him. 

There  was  no  further  question  of  the  justness  of  the 
distribution. 

When  John  went  to  his  own  tent  Helen  flung  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  and,  with  glowing  kisses,  bore 
her  testimony  to  his  prowess. 

But,  though  John  had  shown  his  ability  to  assert 
and  defend  the  prerogatives  of  his  place  against  all 
gainsayers,  yet  Helen  warned  him  that  he  had  not 
heard  the  last  of  this,  and  begged  him  to  be  on  his 


36  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

guard;   which  John  set  down  to  a  woman's  horror  at 
the  sight  of  a  little  blood. 

But  Helen  knew  the  temper  of  the  men  with  whom 
she  was  allied  by  birth  and  lineage  better  than  John 
did;  she  knew  that  Jamie's  sullen  looks  betokened 
not  the  spirit  of  an  honest  man  who,  being  fairly 
beaten,  respects  the  prowess  of  the  victor.  And  so, 
while  John  slept,  she  was  alert,  and  her  quick  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  stealthy  steps  creeping  upon  their 
tent,  but  two  nights  after  this  affair. 

It  was  just  past  midnight,  and  the  moon  was  drop- 
ping out  of  sight  behind  the  crest  of  Cairngorm,  when 
her  wakeful  ear  caught  the  sound,  outside  their  tent. 
She  had  barely  time  to  throw  aside  her  sleeping  babe 
and  step  forward,  when  the  tent  flap  was  pushed  aside 
and  Jamie  Stewart  crept  in,  like  a  slow  reptile,  worm- 
ing his  way  toward  the  cot  where  John  lay  sleeping. 
Helen,  who  stood  beside  the  opening,  saw,  by  the  dim 
moonlight,  the  gleam  of  a  poniard  in  his  hand,  and, 
quick  as  thought,  she  raised  the  dagger,  which  she 
kept  under  her  pillow,  and  plunged  it,  with  strength 
begotten  of  fear  and  love,  into  the  back  of  the  writh- 
ing serpent.  With  a  muttered  groan  and  curse  he  fell 
!to  the  ground,  while  a  warm  stream  ran  down  on 
Helen's  feet,  making  her  shiver. 

The  groan  of  the  wounded  gypsy  half  wakened 
John,  and  roused  the  child,  who  cried  lustily.  John 
muttered  drowsily,  "Helen,  what  ails  the  bairn?" 

"It  greets  for  the  bield  o'  its  faither's  arm  frae  the 
night  wind,"  said  Helen  quickly.  "Tak'  it  and  hap 
it  warm,  John." 

"It  aye  lo'es  better  to  cuddle  in  your  saft  bosom, 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  87 

than  on  my  brawny  arm.  Canna  ye  stop  the  lam- 
mie's  bleatin'?" 

"I  maun  gang  to  the  burn  and  scour  my  feet,"  said 
Helen  evasively. 

"But  why  maun  ye  souse  your  feet  in  the  burn  at 
this  hour  o'  night.  It  isna  a  canny  time;  ye  maun 
fa'  foul  o'  the  kelpie,  and  I  winna  leave  ye  to  gang 
alane.  What  ails  your  feet  that  ye  maun  scour 
them?"  said  John,  now  thoroughly  roused. 

"I  hae  killed  a  viper  in  the  tent  door  and  his  blude 
rins  owre  my  feet." 

"But  a  viper  hasna  blude  eneuch  to  rin  owre  the 
ground  like  that.  It  will  be  some  ither  beastie.  We 
will  look  to  it,"  and  John  stirred  himself  to  rise. 

"Na!  na!  John,  bide  ye  still,"  said  Helen,  who 
was  fain  to  bear  all  the  responsibility  of  this  deed  her- 
self, nor  let  it  be  said  that  John  had  come  among  them 
to  shed  gypsy  blood.  "Do  ye  mind  the  bairnie,  and 
I'll  look  to  this  beastie,"  and  she  caught  Jamie  by 
the  heels  and  drew  him  forth  from  the  tent. 

By  this  time  old  Elspeth,  in  the  next  tent,  was 
roused  and  came  creeping  forth,  with  the  hood  of  her 
long  cloak  over  her  head,  looking,  in  the  darkness, 
the  ideal  witch. 

Between  them  they  dragged  Jamie  into  her  tent, 
and  Helen,  hastily  wiping  the  blood  from  her  feet, 
and  sprinkling  some  loose  earth  on  the  floor  of  their 
tent  as  she  went  in,  took  the  baby  from  John,  bidding 
him  talk  no  more  for  fear  of  waking  the  child,  and  lay 
down  ;  but  not  to  sleep. 

Old  Elspeth,  in  her  rude  fashion,  stanched  the  blood 
from  Jamie's  wound  and  gave  him  a  dram  of  whisky 


88  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

which  revived  the  fainting  man.  Then,  pale  and 
weak,  as  he  was  from  the  shock  and  loss  of  blood,  old 
Elspeth  hung  over  him  and  muttered  in  a  gruesome 
whisper:  "I  wad  gie  ye  to  ken,  Jamie  Stewart,  that 
the  life  o'  John  Faa  is  a  charmed  life.  When  he  was 
taen  into  the  band  and  gien  that  name  I  cast  a  spell 
about  him,  and  wha  plots  to  do  him  harm  canna  do  it 
in  secret.  So  lang  as  there  is  ane  wha  loves  him,  to 
her  it  will  be  gien  to  see  the  thoughts  o'  him  wha 
plots,  and  to  ken  the  hour  and  way  that  he  will  try  to 
do  him  ill.  Ye  hae  been  struck,  to-night,  by  nae 
human  hand,  but  by  a  blow  frae  old  Andrew  Faa  him- 
sel'.  I  was  ware  o'  his  wraith  sittin'  in  my  tent  door, 
and  he  sadly  shook  his  head  when  I  spiered  o'  him 
wherefore  he  couldna  rest.  When  ye  crawled  past 
my  tent,  old  Andrew's  wraith  rose  up,  wi'  his  dagger 
in  his  hand,  and  passed  before  ye  into  John's  tent.  I 
saw  it  a'  by  the  elfin  light,  which  only  the  spaewife 
can  see.  Now  is  your  last  chance.  Twice  may  a 
man  lift  hand  agen  John  Faa  and  be  spared;  but  the 
third  time,  it  will  be  death  to  him.  For  I  hae  tied 
nine  witch-knots  in  his  hair  that  the  deil  himsel'  canna 
untie,  and,  gin  ye  raise  your  hand  on  him  again,  the 
wan-weird  witch  o*  Cawdor  will  bide  wi'  ye  in  the 
mirk  o'  midnight  and  suck  the  breath  o'  your  saul  frae 
your  mouth,  and  when  ye  hae  gasped  out  your  life  and 
are  come,  through  the  glen  o'  the  demons,  to  the  land 
o'  our  forbears,  the  wraith  o'  old  Andrew  will  meet 
ye  glowerin',  and  will  set  ye  a  tale  o'  wark  that'll 
ne'er  be  done,  wi'  the  demons  for  your  task-maisters, 
and  will  mak'  a'  the  days  o'  your  ither  life  waukrife 
and  weary,  and  ye'll  never  hae  rest." 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  89 

Poor  Jamie,  just  roused  from  his  fainting  stupor, 
not  knowing  where  he  was,  hearing  the  eldritch  voice, 
unfamiliar  in  the  darkness,  reading  out  to  him  such  a 
doom,  got  a  lesson  more  impressive  than  the  point  of 
Helen's  dagger  to  make  him  realize  the  folly  of  trying 
to  harm  him  whom  the  fates  were  shielding. 

During  the  next  week  they  attended  the  fair  at 
Kintore.  There  was  the  usual  array  of  cattle,  horses, 
sheep,  and  country  produce,  with  peddlers  from  the 
towns.  The  noisy  bustle  of  the  fair  was  at  its  height, 
a  mingled  chorus  of  lowing  kine  and  bleating  sheep, 
with,  here  and  there,  an  unusual  stir  made  by  the 
charge  of  an  angry  bull  who  had  broken  from  the 
herd,  with  a  dozen  or  more  farmers  and  their  gillies  at 
his  heels  adding  their  shouts  to  the  din;  the  flocks  of 
sheep  [shifting  hither  and  thither  like  snowdrifts,  with 
the  serious  collies  on  their  flanks;  the  noisy  tents 
where  the  bargains  were  sealed  with  a  drop  of  the 
"mountain  dew"  ;  and  through  all  these  the  gypsy 
men  were  roving,  like  the  collies,  watching  their 
opportunity,  and  finding  it,  from  time  to  time,  as  was 
attested  by  the  loud  outcry  of  some  farmer  when  he 
found  that  his  money  was  gone,  and  he  must  forego 
his  purchase  or  make  shift  to  borrow  from  his  neigh- 
bors. 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  fair  sat  the  farmers'  wives 
or  daughters  beside  a  tethered  cow  and  calf  or  mind- 
ing a  hirsel  of  sheep,  while  the  gudeman  drove  his 
bargains  and  visited  the  tents.  Among  these  the 
gypsy  women  passed  to  and  fro,  telling  fortunes  for 
the  maidens,  and  picking  up  a  trifle  for  minding  the 
cattle,  and  selling  their  horn  spoons. 


9©  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

The  Laird  of  Stoneywold  had  come  over  to  the  fair 
to  buy  a  stock  of  cattle  and  ponies  for  his  new  estate, 
and,  as  fate  would  have  it,  fell  in  with  John  Gunn. 
With  a  party  of  gay  gentlemen  he  had  been  making 
merry  at  the  inn,  when  John  came  up  leading  a  pair 
of  shaggy-coated,  stout-limbed  ponies,  which  he  had 
been  commissioned  to  sell. 

"Ha!  blue-eyed  tinkler,"  said  the  jovial  Laird, 
"I'll  wager  ye  hae  twa  beasties  for  sale  at  a  ready 
price,  so  that  ye  be  rid  o'  them  e'er  the  owner  finds 
them  on  your  hands." 

"Aye!  my  Laird,  ye  hae  spoken  truth,  whether  it 
be  that  your  cups  brought  it  out  o'  ye,  or  your  fine 
judgment  o'  a  man,  at  sight,"  answered  John  readily. 

"Ye  hae  a  bonnie  keen  wit,  but  gin  ye  wad  mend 
your  manners  ye  wadna  hurt  your  trade,"  said  Muir, 
not  relishing  that  a  gypsy  should  put  himself  on  com- 
mon ground  with  a  laird. 

"For  the  maist  part  I  tak'  the  cue  o'  my  manners 
frae  the  company  I'm  in,"  said  John  quietly. 

"Ye  maun  keep  rather  low  company  then,"  re- 
torted Muir  hotly. 

"I'll  leave  that  for  you  to  say,  my  Laird,  sin'  I 
never  saw  your  face  till  this  hour,"  replied  John, 
more  amused  than  angry. 

"You're  a  gash  caird,  and  unco  fou'  o'  gumption; 
but  ye  hae  summat  to  learn  anent  your  standin'  before 
gentlemen,"  said  Muir.  "It  ill  becomes  a  man  o' 
your  station  to  tell  a  gentleman  that  he  speaks  the 
truth  because  he  is  in  his  cups." 

"And  it  wasna  a  fine  pattern  o'  speech  that  ye  set 
me  yoursel',  my  Laird,  when  ye  told  me  the  ponies 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  91 

were  stolen  gear  in  my  hands,"  answered  John  stoutly. 
"Gin  ye  had  met  me  like  a  man,  I  wad  hae  kenned  ye 
for  a  gentleman  ;  but,  when  ye  misca'd  me  for  a  thief, 
I  was  fain  to  mak'  the  best  excuse  I  could  for  ye,  and 
allow  that  ye  were  fou'." 

"Ye  are  an  honest  man  wi'  your  tongue,  that  I 
maun  grant,"  said  Muir,  amused  at  the  quiet  self- 
assertion  with  which  John  refused  to  be  browbeaten. 
"And  sin'  we've  settled  that  business,  that  you  arena  a 
thief  and  I  am  na  fou',  shall  we  mak'  a  barter  for  the 
twa  pawky  cuddies  that  ye  hold  by  the  tether?" 

"They  arena  cuddies,  my  Laird,"  said  John  firmly; 
"and  they  arena  to  sell  at  the  price  o'  a  cuddie. 
They  are  true-bred  Highland  ponies,  rough  frae  their 
heather  beds,  but  guid  for  a'  weathers,  easy  to  keep 
and  ready  for  wark." 

"Will  ye  name  me  a  price  for  the  pair  o'  them?" 
said  Muir,  "and  show  me  their  gait  in  the  bargain?" 

"Aye,  my  Laird,"  answered  John,  "ye  can  buy 
them  for  twal  pounds  a  piece  or  twenty  pounds  the 
pair;  and  I'll  ride  them  at  nine  Scots  miles  the  hour." 

"And  will  ye  fetch  them  to  my  place,  Castlewood 
on  the  Don  water;  which  is  twelve  miles  as  the  cor- 
bie flies,  and  seventeen  by  the  niest  road?"  said  Muir. 

"I  will  do  it,  on  the  morrow,  my  Laird,"  answered 
John  blithely ;  "but,  as  I  am  sellin'  these  cattle  for 
anither  man,  ye  maun  mak'  your  bargain  wi'  him  as 
to  where  the  money  shall  be  paid  down." 

"I'll  pay  down  the  money  to  ye,  and  tak'  the  bond 
o'  your  honest  eye  that  ye'll  play  me  fair,"  answered 
Muir.  "But  now  to  the  speedin'  o'  the  beasties;  let 
us  see  how  they  show  their  heels  to  the  dust." 


92  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

John  called  one  of  the  gypsy  lads  and,  handing  him 
the  halter  of  one  of  the  ponies,  bid  him  mount,  while 
he  himself  vaulted  on  the  other. 

Then  up  and  down  the  green  in  front  of  the  inn 
went  the  riders  at  full  speed.  A  crowd  quickly  gath- 
ered, gentlemen,  grooms,  stable  boys,  farmers,  and 
gypsies;  and  there  was  fine  sport  and  free  betting  on 
each  course,  as  it  was  run.  A  starter  and  judge  were 
appointed,  and,  for  a  half  hour,  there  was  a  stirring 
scene,  with  an  excited  crowd  shouting  encouragement 
or  applause.  John  knew  these  Highland  ponies  well, 
for  was  he  not  their  brother;  and  he  managed  his  so 
well  as  to  bring  him  in  the  winner  every  time. 

Muir  was  delighted,  and  when  the  race  was  over, 
paid  down  the  twenty  pounds  and  had  John  in  to 
drink  some  stout  ale  with  the  gentlemen. 

"Ye  hae  guid  luck  wi'  the  ponies,"  said  Muir  to 
John,  after  they  had  drunk  a  stoup  or  two  to  the 
victor.     "Ye  ken  a  guid  horse  and  how  to  guide  him." 

"Aye,"  answered  John,  "if  it  be  a  Highland  pony, 
I  ken  him  weel.  We  grew  up  thegither.  And  it's 
weel  the  same  in  dealin'  wi'  the  beasties  as  wi'  men, 
gin  ye  hae  a  fellow-feelin'  ye  winna  gang  far  wrang 
wi'  ane  anither." 

"Ye  hae  seen  a  bit  o'  the  world,  to  pick  up  your 
nuggets  o'  wisdom  anent  man  and  beast,"  said  Muir, 
feeling  a  desire  to  draw  John  out. 

"It's  a  sma'  matter  how  muckle  o'  the  world  we 
see,  gin  a  man  doesna  keep  his  e'en  open,  wi'  a  wit 
to  ken  the  light  when  it  shines  on  him.  Gin  ye  watch 
and  hearken  ye  maun  learn  a  bit  here  and  there,  and 
mony  a  mickle  mak's  a  muckle;  but,  gin  ye  be  aye 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  93 

claverin*  wi'  your  ain  tongue,  ye  winna  hear  muckle 
wisdom.  My  word  for  it  the  same  is  true  wi'  the 
beasties;  wi'  your  mouth  shut  and  your  e'en  open, 
it  is  wonderfu'  what  a  power  o'  instruction  ye  will 
get." 

John's  tongue  was  loosed  by  the  stout  ale;  and  it 
was  not  often  that  he  had  the  chance  of  a  crack  with 
gentlemen. 

Mr.  Muir  was  delighted  with  his  bargain,  and 
John's  shrewd  and  honest  talk  attracted  him  mightily; 
and  his  manly  bearing  won  the  Laird's  respect.  He 
wanted  just  such  a  man  on  the  estate,  and,  if  further 
acquaintance  should  confirm  his  first  estimate  of  this 
man,  he  had  never  made  a  luckier  purchase  than  these 
two  ponies.  So  he  bargained  with  John  to  remain  for 
a  week  or  two,  and  break  some  colts  for  him. 

When  the  fair  broke  up  John  dismissed  his  forces, 
sending  word  to  the  camp  that,  in  his  absence,  Jamie 
Stewart  should  act  as  his  deputy,  and  that  Helen, 
Elspeth,  and  three  other  women,  with  six  of  the  men, 
should  meet  him  at  the  next  county  fair  at  Woodburn. 

On  the  following  morning,  having  laid  aside  his 
gypsy  costume  and  donned  the  dress  of  a  country 
farmer,  John  betook  himself  with  the  ponies  to  Castle- 
wood  Hall,  where  he  arrived  on  the  following  even- 
ing. 

By  the  time  the  colts  were  broken  John  and  the 
Laird  were  well  acquainted,  and  he  had  proved  him- 
self of  such  service  in  organizing  and  directing  im- 
provements, so  fertile  in  expedients  and  keen  in  his 
appreciation  of  Mr.  Muir's  plans,  reliable  in  what  he 
undertook  and  able  to  command  men,  that  his  stay  of 


94  A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

one  week  was  prolonged  indefinitely;  and  he  had 
become,  virtually,  the  Laird's  factor. 

It  was  nearing  the  time  of  the  Woodburn  fair  and 
Mr.  Muir  was  making  ready  to  go  down,  and  was  de- 
bating with  John  over  the  fencing  and  draining  of 
some  low  lands  and  repairing  of  the  tenants'  houses, 
and  the  renewal  or  cancellation  of  some  leases;  on 
all  which  points  John  had  shown  a  shrewd  good 
sense,  and  made  suggestions  of  practical  value;  when 
Mr.  Muir,  turning  to  him,  said:  "Ye  haena  always 
been  a  tinkler,  or  I  ken  naething  o'  what  gaes  to  the 
breedin'  o'  men." 

"Nay,  my  Laird,  I  hae  not.  Ye  are  nigher  right 
than  ye  were  when  ye  took  me  for  a  thief." 

"But,  John,  man,  ye  maun  forget  that  noo,"  said 
Mr.  Muir;  "for  I  ken  ye  for  as  true  a  man  as  ane 
meets  in  the  langest  day's  tramp,  ane  to  wham  I  wad 
trust  a'  my  gear." 

"Ye  can  do  it,  my  Laird,"  said  John  proudly,  "and 
ye'll  ne'er  hae  cause  to  change  your  mind.  But  noo 
we  will  look  to  yon  bit  fencin'.  Shall  we  rin  it  down 
to  the  burn,  or  turn  it  over  the  hillside  to  meet  the 
ither  fence?"  and  so  he  parried  the  opening  up  of 
confidences  regarding  his  past  history. 

But  John  was  not  proof  against  the  gentler  method 
by  which  Mrs.  Muir  stirred  the  deeper  waters  and 
brought  to  the  surface  the  things  that  were  hid  from 
her  husband's  eyes.  She  too  felt  a  special  interest  in 
this  singular  gypsy,  who  was  so  strong  with  the  labor- 
ers and  so  gentle  with  her  baby.  And  as  he  fondled 
her  child,  her  heart  went  out  to  him,  and  she  wanted 
to  know  something  of  his  inner  life. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  95 

As  she  sat,  one  evening,  on  the  bench  under  the 
spreading  beech  in  front  of  the  Hall,  while  John  was 
riding  the  wee  Laird  on  his  shoulders,  the  youngster 
crowing  with  excess  of  joy,  in  one  of  the  pauses  of 
the  sport  she  said  to  John : 

"Ye  maun  hae  a  bairn  o'  your  ain,  for  ye  ken  so 
weel  to  fondle  them." 

"Aye,  my  Leddy, "  said  John,  as  he  thought  of  his 
own  wild  birdie  in  the  camp  among  the  Braemar  hills; 
"I  hae  a  bairnie  o'  my  ain,  a  wee  bit  lassie;  but  she 
is  far  frae  here." 

"Ye'll  be  longin'  for  a  glint  o'  her  e'en;  and  ye 
shall  tak'  a  gift  frae  me  to  the  lassie.  Has  she  a  pair 
o'  blue  e'en  frae  her  faither?"  said  Mrs.  Muir,  smil- 
ing into  John's  honest  eyes. 

"Nay,  my  Leddy,  answered  John,  returning  the 
smile,  "her  e'en  are  dark  as  a  fallow  deer's;  but  they 
are  winsome  and  bonnie,  though  they  arena  blue." 

"Ye  haena  clean  forgat  whan  ye  were  a  bairn  yer- 
sel\  It  aye  brings  back  the  bonnie  days  o'  youth 
when  these  toddlers  tak'  us  by  the  hand  and  lead  us 
into  the  wee  folks'  land,  and  gar  us  forget  our  carkin' 
cares,"  said  Mrs.  Muir  gently. 

"Aye,  my  Leddy,  I  ken  it  weel;  and  I  winna  for- 
get it.  It  was  blithe  in  my  hame  on  the  glenside,  wi' 
the  burn  at  the  foot  o'  the  haugh,  where  I  fished  for 
the  trouts  and  paiddled  wi'  the  lads  and  lassies." 

"But  my  Laird  tellit  me  that  ye  were  ane  o'  a  band 
o'  tinklers  wha  were  at  the  fair,  and  I  ne'er  kenned 
a  tinkler  that  cam'  frae  a  Highland  hame,"  said 
Mrs.  Muir. 

"It  wasna  my  lineage  that  made  me  a  tinkler,  my 


96  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Leddy, "  said  John  with  a  tang  of  pride  in  his  tone; 
"but  the  turn  o'  the  tide  o'  fortune  that  put  me  on 
the  wrang  side  o'  the  king's  service." 

"I  dinna  ken  what  ye  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Muir,  "nor 
what  king  ye  hae  misprized.  There  are  some  wha  ca' 
themselves  kings  that  werena  born  to  rule,  and  some 
wha  hae  been  driven  frae  their  birthright.  But  we 
maun  bide  and  hope  for  better  days.  'The  king  will 
aye  come  to  his  ain,'  says  my  Laird;  but  tome  it 
seems  aftwhiles  that  he  is  lang  a-comin'." 

Then  John  felt  that  he  could  tell  his  story  without 
fear  of  shocking  his  hearer's  loyalty;  and,  without 
further  parley,  began: 

"My  Leddy,  I  was  born  and  reared  in  the  High- 
lands o'  Ross,  wi'  as  guid  blude  in  my  veins  as  rins  in 
mony  a  well-known  house  o'  Scotland  and  better  than 
fills  the  carcass  o'  mony  a  Saxon  lord.  We  were 
scant  o'  this  world's  gear,  but  a  lean  purse  is  not  the 
worse  misfortune,  and  I  hae  yet  to  learn  that  lack  o' 
meat  ever  thinned  guid  ancient  blude.  My  hame  was 
in  a  moorland  glen;  and  while  I  live  I  will  love  the 
scent  o'  heather  and  the  peat-reek  that  flavors  the 
'mountain  dew.'  There  was  a  wiraplin'  burn  at  the 
foot  o'  the  glen  where  I  caught  the  trouts  in  the  early 
morn.  We  had  twa  dogs,  for  my  faither  was  a  shep- 
herd; and  I  was  friendly  wi'  a'  aboot  me,  my  douce 
faither,  my  gentle  mither,  our  twa  collies,  and  the  old 
gray  cat;  nor  did  I  quarrel  wi'  the  wooden  trencher 
and  spoon  wi'  which  I  ate  my  parritch.  I  kenned 
ilka  fin  that  shot  acrass  the  dark  pools  in  the  windin' 
burnie;  and  the  bleat  o'  the  sheep  on  the  braes,  and 
the  glen  itsel',  wi'  the  mist  hung  owre  it  in  the  early 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  97 

morn — I  loved  them  a',  as  a  boy  loves  siccan  things. 
There  may  be  bonnier  lands  for  a  farmer,  and  richer 
lands  for  a  trader,  but  oh!  for  a  land  to  love  and 
remember  for  aye,  gie  me  the  Highlands  o'  Ross. 
It  is  a  stiff  soil  for  wheat  and  corn,  but  it  will  raise 
the  cockles  o'  the  heart  as  long  as  ye  bide  aboon  the 
gowans. "  John  spoke  with  that  eloquence  whose 
periods  are  rounded  by  affection. 

"But  what  led  ye  awa',  when  it  is  sae  dear  to  your 
heart,  John;  and  winna  ye  gae  back  to  it  again?" 
said  Mrs.  Muir,  touched  by  the  loyal  affection  with 
which  John  lingered  over  the  simple  joys  of  his  early 
days. 

"I  winna  gae  back,  my  Leddy,  for  it  canna  be  the 
same.  My  faither  and  mither  are  deid,  and  mayhap 
anither  laddie  is  in  the  shepherd's  hut;  and  the  glen 
will  be  ither  than  it  was  to  the  care-free  lad  wha  took 
the  trout  frae  its  burn.  Aye  the  glens  and  burns  bide 
the  same,  and  we  it  is  wha  change.  Whan  my  faither 
and  mither  were  gane  and  I  left  alane,  I  was  fain  to 
be  a  soldier  in  a  gay  uniform,  wi'  plenty  to  eat  and  a 
sword  at  my  side,  and  I  listed  in  the  Black  Watch ; 
and  ye  ken,  my  Leddy,  what  was  the  end  o'  that  affair. 
We  turned  our  backs  on  the  disgrace  we  couldna  for- 
fend ;  for  it  was  aye  our  Scots  land  that  the  Saxon 
traders  flyted;  and  amang  them  a'  there  was  none 
braver  than  a  tailor.  Ye  winna  ca'  me  a  coward  and 
deserter,  my  Leddy,  when  ye  ken  that  I  led  the  men 
awa'  frae  what  we  couldna  help  nor  hinder?"  and 
John  looked  at  Mrs.  Muir  appealingly;  for  she  had 
started  when  he  named  the  Black  Watch. 

But  he  need  not  fear  the  judgment  of  one  reared  in 


98  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

a  school  of  politics  which  taught  that  the  reigning 
king  regarded  England  as  a  mere  conquest,  and  that 
he  lived  chiefly  in  Hanover,  spending  in  his  dear 
Electorate  the  plunder  gotten  from  India  and  the  new 
world ;  and  to  whom  Scotland  was  a  conquest  of  a 
conquest.  To  her  these  were  man-made  kings, 
Dutch  puppets  managed  by  politicians,  and  were 
worthy  of  scant  respect ;  for  Scotchmen  owed  al- 
legiance to  another  house. 

"Nae  man  is  traitor,"  said  Mrs.  Muir  warmly, 
"wha  leaves  a  hireling  service  when  he  finds  the  pay 
is  not  worth  the  toil.  Ye  made  a  noble  stand,  and 
we  were  proud  to  hae  the  Saxons  ken  how  a  true  Scot 
loves  his  native  land.  I  will  hae  ye  tell  me  the  tale, 
some  time,  and  meanwhile  ye  will  bide  wi'  us,  John. 
Stoneywold  was  already  minded  to  mak'  ye  baillie  o' 
the  estate,  and  now  I  will  lift  baith  hands  for  it.  I 
was  minded  to  tak'  tent,  and  hae  ye  bide  wi'  us  a  bit, 
till  we  could  ken  how  ye  wad  bear  yoursel' ;  but  I 
hae  nae  doubt  o'  the  man  that  led  the  Black  Watch. 
Winna  ye  bide  wi'  us  now,  John?" 

"But  I  am  not  alane,  my  Leddy,"  replied  John, 
touched  to  the  quick  now,  and  ready  to  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it.  "Whan  I  fled  frae  the  Saxon  horde  I 
went  by  night  frae  muir  to  muir  and,  whan  weel-nigh 
spent,  I  fell  in  wi'  a  band  o'  cairds,  wha  gave  me 
meat  and  drink  and  shelter.  And  the  daughter  o'  the 
chief,  o'  the  ancient  family  o'  Faa,  won  the  heart  out 
o'  me,  wi'  her  bonnie  black  e'en;  and  Helen  Faa  is 
my  ain  true  wife  married  in  the  kirk,  and  I  canna  for- 
sake her,  for  she  loves  me  weel ;  and  I  canna  gae  where 
my  wife  wadna  be  welcome,  for  I  love  her  dearly." 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  99 

He  lost  nothing  in  Mrs.  Muir's  esteem  by  this  open 
confession,  and  she  answered  him  warmly:  "I  prom- 
ise your  dark-eyed  gypsy  bride  a  warm  welcome, 
honest  John;  for  gin  she  has  won  you  to  love  her,  I 
warrant  she  is  a  true  woman." 

But  John  declined  to  commit  himself  further  than 
the  promise  to  do  his  best  to  win  the  consent  of  his 
gypsy  wife  to  forsake  their  tents  and  dwell  among 
men.  He  left  them  with  the  promise  that,  in  any 
event,  they  should  see  him  again,  and  made  his  way  to 
the  fair  at  Woodburn. 

Here  he  met  the  detail  of  his  band,  led  by  Jamie 
Stewart,  and  Helen  with  old  Elspeth  and  the  other 
women. 

Jamie  had  seen  stormy  times  while  striving  to  hoM 
the  reins  of  government,  and  brought  a  long  list  of 
grievances  for  John  to  right.  He  had  neither  the 
character  nor  courage  to  rule  this  turbulent  band ;  his 
fierce,  fighting  bravery  did  not  atone  for  the  lack  of 
cool  nerve  to  face  and  master  the  spirit  of  rebel- 
lion which  had  been  rife  under  his  brief  sway;  and 
Jamie  was  ready  enough  to  hand  them  over  to  one 
whom  he  recognized  as  able  to  control  their  fiery 
spirits. 

There  was  plenty  of  work  for  the  band  at  the  fair, 
and  they  were  reaping  the  harvest  and  bringing  the 
fruit  of  their  labor  to  John,  who  was  again  a  brown- 
skinned  gypsy  in  the  tinkler's  picturesque  garb,  in 
which  Mrs.  Muir  would  never  have  known  him,  when 
one  of  his  young  men  brought  him  the  well-laden 
green  silk  purse,  whose  history  Mr.  Muir  had  told 
him  when,  from  time   to  time,  recourse  was  had  to 


IOO  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

it  to  supply  the  means  for  some  of  their  improve- 
ments. 

John  knew  it  as  soon  as  he  saw  it  in  the  hands  of 
the  gypsy  lad,  who  had  lightly  relieved  the  Laird  of 
Stoneywold,  as  he  was  deep  in  discussion  with  a 
farmer,  among  a  crowd  at  a  tent  door. 

No  sooner  was  the  purse  in  John's  hands  than  he 
saw  in  what  a  dilemma  it  put  him  with  his  new-found 
friends.  He  had  not  intended  to  show  himself  to  Mr. 
Muir  in  his  present  guise.  It  was  an  awkward  pre- 
dicament. He  might  invent  a  story  of  the  finding  of 
the  purse  by  one  of  his  young  men,  only  to  discover 
that  Mrs.  Muir  had  it  in  charge  and  had  just  handed 
it  to  the  Laird,  at  the  fair. 

He  did  not  entertain  a  thought  of  its  retention;  but 
its  restitution  was  beset  with  difficulties.  Never  did 
man  feel  gold  weigh  heavier  on  heart  and  pocket,  and 
he  cursed  the  hour  when  the  deft  fingers  of  Will  Rob- 
ertson found  their  way  into  Stoneywold's  unguarded 
pouch. 

But  here  it  was  and  something  must  be  done  with  it, 
and  that  without  delay,  before  the  loss  was  discovered 
and  an  outcry  raised.  After  much  weary  conning, 
John  formed  this  plan:  "I'll  gae  to  yon  field  and  bury 
the  mischancie  bawbie,  then  I'll  gar  old  Elspeth  seek 
out  the  Laird  and  bid  him  hearken  to  the  spaewife, 
wha  can  show  him  a  mischance  that  has  befallen  him 
and  how  he  can  mend  his  luck,  if  he  will  crass  her 
loof  wi'  siller;  and  so  a  saxpence  will,  mayhap,  mend 
matters  again." 

He  set  off  forthwith  to  the  meadow  where  Helen 
and  Elspeth  had  their  tents,  apart  from  the   rest  of 


A  HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  IOI 

the  band;  for  John  did  not  permit  Helen  to  mingle 
in  the  crowd  at  the  fair  as  a  gypsy  fortune-teller,  sub- 
ject to  the  rude  jests  of  the  hucksters. 

While  on  his  way,  he  saw  a  woman  sitting  under  a 
hedgerow  by  the  roadside,  a  country  Jean  with  a 
homespun  kirtle  wrapped  about  her,  the  hood  drawn 
over  her  head,  holding  a  baby  in  her  arms. 

John  was  used  to  disguises  of  all  sorts  and,  under 
the  homespun  cloak,  he  recognized  a  pose  of  the  head 
and  shoulders  and  a  posture  that  does  not  belong  to 
the  back  that  is  bent  under  burdens. 

He  had  passed  to  the  other  side  of  the  hedge  and 
drawing  nearer  recognized,  in  the  soft  lullaby  that  she 
was  crooning,  the  voice  of  the  Lady  of  Stoneywold. 
John  saw  in  this  a  golden  opportunity,  and,  stepping 
up  lightly  and  quickly  behind  the  lady,  reached 
through  the  hedge,  lifted  a  corner  of  the  kirtle, 
dropped  the  purse  into  her  lap,  and,  before  she  could 
turn  her  head,  was  gone,  with  a  conscience  and 
pocket  both  mightily  eased. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"the  reek  o'  my  ain  house  is  better  than 

THE    FIRE    O'    MY    NEEBOR's." 

AFTER  handing  over  the  green  silk  purse  to  such 
safe  keeping,  John  addressed  himself  to  the  set- 
ting in  order  of  his  own  affairs.  He  found  his  way 
quickly  to  the  tent  where  wife  and  wean  awaited  him, 
watched  over  by  old  Elspeth.  Helen's  ear  caught  the 
sound  of  his  step  while  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off,  and 
she  was  ready,  with  their  baby  in  her  arms,  to  meet 
him. 

How  beautiful  she  looked,  to  John,  as  she  stood  in 
the  shadow  of  the  birch  tree,  her  black  hair  lustrous, 
as  the  sifted  sunlight  fell  upon  it,  her  dark  eyes  lit 
with  glowing  love,  her  teeth  between  her  parted  lips 
like  pearls  set  in  rubies,  her  whole  poise  alert  to  greet 
his  coming.  John  paused  for  a  moment  to  inhale  the 
exceeding  beauty  of  her  face  and  loveliness  of  form, 
e'er  it  should  be  hidden  in  his  close  embrace.  For  a 
moment,  he  stood  gloating  over  his  treasure  and  then 
hurried  forward  to  take  her  in  his  arms. 

He  took  the  weanie  from  her  and  tossing  it  high  in 
the  air  caught  the  crowing  fairy  as  it  came  down  from 
its  flight,  like  a  callow  nestling  that  has  spread  its 
wings  too  soon,  while  Helen  watched  intently,  with  a 
still  delight,   like  that   which  is   shown  by  animals, 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 03 

eager  yet  repressed.  When  he  handed  back  the  child, 
he  caught  her  too  in  his  arms,  as  though  she  were  but 
a  larger  child,  and,  after  he  had  thus  expended  some 
of  the  exuberance  of  his  spirits,  sat  himself  down 
beside  her  and  opened  up  the  grave  subject  of  the 
proposed  change  in  their  manner  of  life. 

"My  ain  wild  cushat,"  he  said,  as  she  sat,  with  her 
hands  clasped,  looking  him  in  the  eye  with  a  gaze  that 
held  him.  "Are  ye  glad  to  see  me  back  again,  my 
bonnie  mirk-eyed  lassie?" 

"Aye,  John,"  she  said  simply;  and  how  true  her 
voice  rang. 

"I  hae  been  leadin'  a  braw  life,  in  the  house  o'  a 
laird  and  leddy,"  said  John.  And  Helen's  face  fell, 
as  it  always  did  when  John  made  reference  to  the 
other  side  of  his  life ;  for  she  feared  he  might  feel 
that  his  fortunes  were  fallen. 

"Was  it  bonnie,  John;  and  did  ye  long  to  bide  wi' 
them?"  and  the  tone  was  one  of  suspense. 

"I  cannabide  awa'  frae  the  lassie  that  I  love,"  said 
John,  answering  the  latter  half  of  the  query  first;  and 
Helen  smiled.  "But  it  is  a  bonnie  life  whan  a  man 
can  feel  that  he  is  put  to  a  man's  wark  and  can  win 
honor  frae  his  fellow-men." 

Helen  was  silent.  All  this  meant  nothing  to  her, 
who  felt  that  the  honor  of  being  chief  of  a  band  was 
enough  to  fill  the  measure  of  a  man's  ambition.  John 
watched  the  shadow  steal  over  her  face,  as  when  one 
walking  in  pleasant  company  looks  up  suddenly  to 
find  one's  self  alone. 

"Aye,  Helen,  it  is  weel  for  a  man  whan  he  can  win 
not  only  the  rule  o'  a  band  o'  outlaws  but  also  the 


104  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

trust  o*  men  that  haud  a  place  in  the  land,"  he  said, 
with  that  positive  tone  which  so  often  passes  for  argu- 
ment, especially  in  the  dealings  of  men  with  their 
women. 

Helen  listened,  but  she  knew  nothing  of  the  motions 
of  such  an  ambition,  her  horizon  being  limited  by  the 
point  from  which  she  had  always  looked  on  life. 

"Aye,  John,"  she  answered,  after  a  little,  "it  may 
be,  for  them  wha  ken  o'  sic  matters ;  but  I  ken 
naught  o'  lairds  and  leddies." 

"Lairds  and  leddies,"  answered  John  senten- 
tiously,  "are  a'  the  same  as  ither  folk,  only  just  wi' 
anither  name." 

"Weel,  John,"  said  Helen  plaintively,  "then  why 
not  bide  wi'  the  ither  folk,  and  not  fash  yoursel' 
whether  the  lairds  and  leddies  love  ye  or  leave  ye?" 

"Ye  winna  understand,  Helen.  I  carena  whethei 
they  love  me  or  no;  but  a  man  wins  his  place  in  the 
warld  by  the  one  wham  he  serves.  If  he  serve  the 
king,  he  is  a  courtier;  if  a  laird,  he  is  a  baillie,  and 
through  a'  the  kintra  side  he  is  respectit,  and  can 
haud  up  his  head  amang  his  fellows,"  said  John,  puz- 
zled to  make  his  gypsy  wife  see  that  the  tame  dignity 
of  the  steward  of  a  Scotch  laird  was  to  be  compared 
with  the  royal  honors  of  one  who  was  a  lord  and  earl 
of  Little  Egypt. 

"Haena  I  heard  ye  say,  John,  'far  frae  court,  far 
frae  care';  and  winna  the  same  rule  haud  by  your 
lairds  and  their  leddies?" 

"I  am  minded,  Helen,  to  tak'  service  wi'  the  Laird 
o*  Stoneywold.  He  is  a  douce  gentleman  and  his 
wife  is  a  canty  leddy.     I  will  aye   bide  true  to  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  105 

Lochgellie  band,  and  can  aftwhiles  help  them  out  o' 
a  strait.  But  I  wad  see  ye,  as  my  wife,  Helen,  haud 
anither  place  than  as  ane  o'  a  band  o'  tinklers;  and 
wad  fain  see  our  wee  lassie,  in  whose  veins  rins  the 
blude  o'  the  Faas,  wi'  a  mixture  o'  Highland  blude  o' 
guid  and  ancient  strain,  bred  in  a  better  way  o'  life 
than  as  a  tinkler's  bairn,  wi'  the  fate  to  wed  siccan 
as  Jamie  Stewart  or  Tarn  Ruthven,"  said  John,  bring- 
ing to  bear  such  influences  as  might  win  Helen  to 
appreciate  the  blessings  of  a  gentler  mode  of  life. 

"Aweel,  John,  gin  ye  maun  gae,  I  will  gae  wi'  ye," 
said  Helen  sadly.  "Are  there  braes  there,  John,  and 
a  meadow  by  the  roadside,  and  can  we  bide  in  tents 
in  the  pleasant  simmer  days?" 

"It  is  a  bonnie  place,  Helen ;  the  braes  are  fine  and 
the  braid  haughs  fu'  o'  gowans,  and  the  copses  fu'  o' 
red  deer,  and  the  braw  salmon  leap  in  the  Don  water. 
We  shall  hae  a  cot  o'  our  am,  finer  than  ony  hut  in 
Little  Carron,  and  your  ain  chicks  and  a  wee  cow  in 
the  byre.  And  whan  I  come  hame  frae  my  day's 
work,  there  will  my  Helen  sit  by  the  cottage  door 
croonin'  to  the  weanie  : 

"  Balow,  my  wean,  lie  still  and  sleep, 
It  grieves  me  sair  to  see  thee  weep." 

And  John  drew  the  picture  with  all  those  touches 
which  might  appeal  to  Helen.  There  was  one  thing 
that  did  appeal  to  her,  namely,  John's  evident  desire 
to  go ;  and  she  would  surely  go  with  him.  But  Ish- 
mael  never  loved  the  tents  of  his  brethren. 

"Shall  we  see  the  road  nae  mair,  John,  and  aye  live 
in  ane  lone  spot?"  asked  Helen  sadly. 


ic6  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"The  spot  winna  be  lanely,  my  wee  wifie,  and  ye 
shall  visit  your  friends  whenever  ye  will,"  was  John's 
compliant  answer. 

"How  will  old  Elspeth  fare  wi'out  me?"  said 
Helen  ;  for,  though  the  old  woman  stood  to  her  more 
in  the  light  of  a  spaewife  than  a  mother,  yet  she  could 
not  forget  all  that  they  owed  to  her. 

"She  maun  come  and  bide  wi'  us,"  answered 
John  ;  though  his  heart  misgave  him  as  to  how  this  new, 
and  not  altogether  attractive,  appendage  would  im- 
press his  new-found  friends.  But,  after  all,  she  would 
be  only  a  figure  in  the  background,  and  would  not 
come  in  contact  with  the  community  in  which  their 
lot  was  to  be  cast,  and  he  would  risk  her  acceptance 
as  part  of  his  retinue;  in  any  event  he  would  not 
forsake  her. 

"I  am  ready  to  gae  wi'  ye,  John,"  was  Helen's 
final  answer.  But  it  was  not  a  choice  between  the 
two  modes  of  life;  she  gave  up  all  to  follow  him. 

Old  Elspeth  made  the  other  choice;  but  she  bade 
John  go,  and  Helen  go  with  him.  "I  am  aye  proud 
to  see  ane  wha  has  led  a  tinkler's  life  gae  amang  men 
and  show  them  that  we  are  as  gnid  as  the  best.  It 
pleases  me  unco'  weel  to  see  an  Egyptian  maid  marry 
a  man  o'  high  degree  and  gar  them  ken  that  the 
women  o'  Little  Egypt  are  equal  to  ony  leddy  in  the 
land.  I  hae  seen  them  in  high  places,  and  they  mak' 
bonnie  brides  for  the  best  o'  men  ;  an'  the  jewels  look 
fine  in  the  braids  o'  their  dark  hair.  I  bid  ye  gae, 
John,  and  mak'  Helen  a  leddy,  and  let  her  be  buskit 
as  fine  as  the  best  o'  them,  and  send  the  weanie  to 
their  schules;  and  foul  fare  the  gomeril  wha  points 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 07 

the  finger  o'  scorn  at  her  as  a  tinkler's  bairn.  Gae 
to  their  Kirk,  John,  and  foregather  wi'  them  in  the 
kirkyard,  and  tak'  Helen  wi'  ye  in  her  silks  and  jew- 
els, and  show  them  a'  that  there  is  nae  bonnier  wife  in 
Scotland  than  Helen  Faa,  sae  proud  and  fit  to  sit  wi' 
them  in  kirk  or  ha'.  But  let  me  bide  wi'  the  band. 
I  hae  danced,  in  my  time,  wi'  mony  a  gallant,  whan 
my  step  was  light  and  my  eye  was  bright;  and  they 
hae  whispered  saft  words  in  my  ear;  but  my  hand  was 
keepit  for  a  better  and  braver  man,  and  I  never  had 
cause  to  greet  that  I  chose  Andrew  Faa  aboon  them 
a'.  But  that  was  lang  syne,  and  I  am  unco  strange 
to  their  ways,  and  far  gane  in  years  to  leave  my  people 
and  lodge  amang  strangers.  But  ye  are  nae  mair  than 
bairns  to  me;  so  gae  to  the  place  that  is  open  to  ye 
and  ye  needna  fear  for  me;  there  is  nane  daur  crass 
my  will  or  tempt  my  displeasure." 

Helen  was  amazed  at  this  hearty  endorsement  of 
John's  plan  by  old  Elspeth,  and  disposed  to  think 
better  of  this  other  life,  which  was  only  a  vague  dream- 
land to  her,  when  she  heard  that  its  realms  had  been 
open  to  others  of  her  race,  and  that  even  old  Elspeth 
had  trodden  a  measure  in  its  stately  halls. 

Little  more  was  said  upon  the  subject,  except  that 
John  gave  them  a  glowing  picture  of  the  splendors  of 
Castlewood  and  a  life-like  portrait  of  the  Laird  and 
Leddy,  not  forgetting  the  wee  Laird  also.  Helen  was 
glad  that  there  was  a  child  there,  and  her  heart  was 
further  won  by  the  trinket  which  Mrs.  Muir  had  sent 
to  her  baby;  and,  on  the  whole,  it  was  with  a  good 
heart  that  she  came  to  look  on  her  new  life. 

There  was  a  pathetic  tremor  in  old  Elspeth's  voice 


108  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

as  she  said,  later,  "Can  the  wean  bide  wi'  me  to-night, 
Helen?"  and  she  drew  it  close  to  her,  when  Helen 
laid  the  sleeping  infant  in  her  arms. 

Long  after  John  and  Helen  were  sound  asleep,  in 
the  still  summer  night,  as  her  favorite  stars  rose  in  the 
sky,  the  old  spaewife  sat  and  cast  spells  of  riches, 
honor,  health,  long  life,  and  a  happy  marriage  about 
the  innocent,  sleeping  babe.  And,  ever  and  anon, 
while  she  waited  for  the  stars  to  rise,  there  rose  within 
her  own  heart  the  kindlings  of  a  human  affection,  and 
great,  silent  tears  fell  on  the  face  of  the  child  and  made 
it  stir  in  its  sleep;  and  she  cast  over  the  bairn  of  her 
bairn  the  charm  of  a  mother's  love  descending  from 
one  generation  to  another;  and  this  is  better  than  the 
spells  that  come  from  the  cold  light  of  stars.  And 
so  she  spent  the  night  alternately  blessing  and  weep- 
ing over  the  child  that  was  to  learn  the  lesson  of  for- 
getting that  she  was  born  of  an  Egyptian  mother. 

When  the  morning  came  John  made  ready  for  his 
departure  by  summoning  his  young  men  and  announc- 
ing the  change  to  them. 

"I  am  going  to  tak'  service  wi'  the  Laird  o'  Stoney- 
wold,  and  am  ready  to  lay  down  the  office  o'  chief  o'  the 
Lochgellie  band,  gin  ye  are  minded  to  put  anither  man 
in  my  place;  or  I  will  haud  the  place,  and  frae  time 
to  time  come  amang  ye  and  tak'  tent  o'  your  doin's, 
and  stand  ye  in  stead  when  ye  are  in  ony  strait,  as  ye 
did  by  me." 

This  announcement  was  met  with  a  blank  dismay 
which  pleased  John  mightily.  They  looked  from  one 
to  the  other,  aghast,  with  never  a  word.  Ready  as 
they  were  to  struggle  against  the  strong  hand  of  an 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 09 

arbitrary  rule,  yet  at  heart  they  felt  its  necessity,  each 
for  the  other;  and,  like  all  blessings,  John's  virtues 
shone  in  view  of  their  loss.  John  watched  them  with 
a  grim  satisfaction,  and  above  all,  was  tickled  at 
Jamie  Stewart's  uneasy  demeanor. 

"Ye  hae  tasted  the  sweets  o'  power,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing to  Jamie.  "Shall  we  cast  a  vote  for  ye,  Jamie?" 
An  audible  titter  went  round  the  circle. 

"I  hae  a'  that  I  can  dae  to  keep  my  ain  business  in 
hand,"  replied  Jamie,  "and  I  winna  fash  mysel'  wi' 
ither  folk's  affairs;"  and  he  drew  back  from  the 
group,  cowering  under  old  Elspeth's  eye,  who  sat  in 
her  tent  door,  looking  ready,  Jamie  thought,  to  launch 
the  thunderbolt  of  her  direful  secret  at  his  head. 

After  some  parley  it  was  agreed  that  Charlie  Gra- 
ham should  act  as  deputy,  with  John  as  chief,  to  whom 
all  graver  questions  should  be  referred  when,  once  a 
month,  he  visited  the  band. 

After  this  it  remained  only  to  say  good-by ;  and, 
with  a  parting  blessing  from  old  Elspeth,  they  turned 
their  backs  upon  the  life  which  had  been  full  of  many 
a  wild  adventure  and  many  a  wayside  pleasure,  and 
betook  themselves,  down  the  winding  Don  as  it  wan- 
ders toward  the  sea,  to  enter  upon  a  new  life;  and 
Elspeth  watched  them  till  they  were  out  of  sight. 

John  felt  elated  on  his  return  to  a  settled  mode  of 
life,  where  he  would  become  known  in  the  commu- 
nity, and  identified  with  a  man  of  standing. 

Helen  felt  a  vague  unrest,  a  fear  that  the  freedom 
of  her  life  would  be  curtailed ;  that  she  was  to  be  as  a 
caged  bird;   and  she  became  constrained  and  silent. 

John,  at  first,  preoccupied  with  his  own  thoughts, 


no  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

did  not  notice  this;  but  at  length  her  unwonted 
silence,  who  was  always  full  of  prattle  as  a  song-bird 
in  the  spring,  roused  him  from  his  reverie  and  drew 
his  attention  to  her  wistful  face. 

"Isna  it  bonnie  by  the  Don  side,  my  dearie?"  said 
John  cheerily.  "And  ye  hae  naething  to  say;  and  I 
miss  the  music  o'  your  voice." 

"Aye,  it  is  bonnie  by  the  Don  side,"  replied  Helen. 

"But  why  are  ye  sae  still,  Helen?"  persisted  John. 

"I  hae  naught  to  say,  John." 

"But  ye  are  fu'  o'  mony  thoughts,  Helen;  I  ken 
that  by  your  wide  e'en." 

"It  is  a*  sae  new  and  strange  to  me,  John,"  said 
Helen  tearfully;   "and  I  maun  spier  what  it  is  like." 

"Do  ye  mean  the  Don  water,  Helen?  We  hae 
ridden  mony  a  mile  adown  it,  before  to-day,  my  wifie," 
said  John  gayly. 

"Na,  na,  John,  the  glens  and  the  burns  arena 
strange  to  me;  whichever  way  they  rin,  my  heart  rins 
up  or  doun  wi'  them.  But  I  am  leavin'  them  noo, " 
said  Helen,  with  the  tone  of  a  prisoner,  on  the  way  to 
his  cell,  taking  a  last  look  at  the  free  hills  and  valleys. 

"But,  my  birdie,  ye  will  bide  in  a  glen  by  a  burn- 
side,  free  as  the  wind  to  come  or  go  as  ye  list,"  re- 
plied John,  in  a  soothing  tone.  "If  ye  arena  happy, 
my  Helen,  we  winna  bide  wi'  the  Laird." 

"I  am  happy  to  bide  where  ye  are,  John.  I  gae 
wi'  ye  willin',  and  I'll  bide  wi'  ye  true."  This  was 
the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  with  Helen.  With 
but  one  tie  to  bind  her,  it  held  her  with  the  intensity 
of  an  untamed  affection;  for  she  knew  no  higher  law 
than  that  which  bade  her  love  and  obey  the  chief  of 


A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE.  Ill 

her  clan  and  the  lord  of  her  heart.  Soon,  like  a 
child,  she  responded  to  John's  effort  to  win  her  inter- 
est in  their  new  surroundings,  and  entered  into  his 
hopes  and  ambitions,  as  she,  sooner  or  later,  entered 
into  all  that  concerned  him. 

On  their  arrival  at  Stoneywold  they  were  given  a 
cottage  down  by  the  borders  of  the  stream,  apart  from 
the  other  tenants.  It  was  small  and  rustic  enough  to 
fulfill  Helen's  ambition  that  it  should  be  like  a  tent. 
There  was  a  little  byre  beside  the  cottage  where  John 
soon  installed  a  cow,  and  started  Helen  in  business 
with  a  small  stock  of  poultry;  and  after  this  fashion 
she  began  her  new  life. 

Mrs.  Muir  took  a  lively  interest  in  John's  gypsy 
bride.  The  romance  of  the  whole  affair  invested  it 
with  the  interest  of  a  story,  and  Helen's  dark  beauty 
and  gentle  manners  attracted  Mrs.  Muir  strongly. 

She  had  her  up  to  the  house,  with  her  baby,  to 
amuse  the  little  Laird;  and  Helen  played  with  the 
two  in  a  wild,  free  way  that  was  pretty  to  look  at,  and 
very  entertaining  to  the  youngsters;  and  soon  Mrs. 
Muir  grew  fond  of  her,  seeing  the  depth  and  tender- 
ness of  her  nature,  her  devoted  love  of  John,  and  her 
winsome  ways  with  the  little  ones.  She  presided  over 
Helen's  toilet  and  moderated  her  native  love  for 
gaudy  color  and  adornment  so  far  that  Helen  could 
go  to  the  kirk  without  riveting  every  eye  on  her; 
though  under  such  gaze  Helen  was  perfectly  com- 
posed, accepting  it  as  the  proper  tribute  to  her  brave 
array. 

John's  hands  were  full  of  the  affairs  of  the  estate; 
and  the  stir  of  this  new  life,  with  its  real  work,  was 


112  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

wholly  to  his  taste.  It  was  a  time  when  most  men 
looked  askance  on  progress  in  farming  methods,  as  of 
doubtful  value;  while  Mr.  Muir  was  fully  persuaded 
that  he  would  be  repaid  for  any  outlay  in  this  direc- 
tion. It  was  his  ambition  not  merely  to  own  land, 
but  to  make  it  the  best  land  in  the  shire,  and  win 
renown  for  his  herd,  and  be  ahead  of  his  neighbors. 
John's  interest  and  ambition  were  aroused,  and  he 
was  so  intelligent  and  active  that  he  became  not 
merely  a  trusted  dependant,  but  an  essential  factor  in 
putting  Mr.  Muir's  plans  in  execution. 

"Three  days  in  each  month,"  he  told  the  Laird, 
"I  maun  hae  to  mysel'  to  set  in  order  the  affairs  o'  a 
sma'  estate  o'  my  ain,  that  fell  to  me  as  my  wife's 
tocher,  before  I  took  service  wi'  ye,  my  Laird." 

"Aye,  John,"  answered  Mr.  Muir,  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  "there  are  kittle  herds  on  that  estate,  and 
ye  maun  hae  an  eye  to  them,  John.  It  is  canty  to 
hae  baith  ends  o'  the  burrow  open,  as  the  hare  said  to 
the  hound." 

Then  John  knew  that  the  Laird  was  aware  in  what 
country  his  estate  lay;  but  they  did  not  speak  of  it  in 
plainer  terms.  Stoneywold  estate  was  singularly  ex- 
empt from  depredation,  nor  was  the  green  silk  purse 
ever  in  danger  again,  for  it  was  intrusted  to  John's 
keeping  when  they  carried  it  to  the  fairs. 

Among  the  gentry  it  came  to  be  understood  that 
John  could  set  many  a  thing  right  that  was  gone 
astray,  and  his  services  were  often  in  requisition. 
When  a  merry  lord  was  eased  of  his  purse,  at  a  fair, 
entailing  a  loss  too  heavy  to  be  endured  in  silence,  if 
he  were  prudent  and  a  friend  of  Stoney wold's,  instead 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  113 

of  raising  a  fruitless  disturbance  and  handing  a  half 
dozen  of  the  lads  over  to  the  constables,  he  would 
quietly  relate  his  loss  to  the  Laird  of  Stoneywold, 
who,  calling  John  aside,  would  say: 

"John,  my  Laird  of  so  and  so  tells  me  that  he  canna 
well  thole  so  heavy  a  loss  as  he  has  met  with,  at  the 
hands  o'  some  feckless  lads,  wha  forgot  that  he  was  a 
friend  o'  ours.  He  was  minded  to  send  you  a  year- 
lin'  bullock,  but,  now,  can  ill  afford  it.  It  seems  a 
pity,  but  I  wanted  ye  to  know  o'  the  Laird's  guid-will 
to  ye." 

"Aweel,  I  must  look  to  it,"  John  would  say.  "It 
may  be  that  some  o'  my  lads  will  ken  mair  o'  this 
matter  than  I  wot"  ;  and,  without  more  ado,  the  purse 
would  find  its  way  back  to  the  owner,  and  a  stoup  of 
ale  consoled  the  young  fellows  for  the  loss  of  the  pelf, 
and  the  yearling  bullock  found  its  way  to  the  camp  of 
the  Lochgellies. 

Thus  did  a  little  well-timed  forbearance  spare 
both  parties  the  vexation  and  expense  of  a  suit  at 
law. 

The  monthly  visit  to  the  band  was,  at  first,  an  event 
to  which  Helen  looked  forward  with  longing.  But, 
as  she  became  wonted  to  her  new  surroundings,  the 
terror  of  restraint  fading,  as  she  saw  how  free  she  was, 
and  the  honor  in  which  John  was  held  becoming  ap- 
parent to  her,  she  was  not  only  content  but  proud  of 
their  position  ;  and  she  saw  clearly  that  the  life  of  her 
child,  growing  in  health  and  beauty,  the  playmate  of 
the  children  at  the  Hall,  was  happier  and  better  than 
a  life  by  the  roadside. 

Then,  too,  the  pleasure  of  their  visits  to  the  band 


IH  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

was  marred  by  the  vexatious  brawls  brought  to  John 
for  adjudication. 

The  stories  of  their  exploits  did  not  sound  so  brave, 
in  the  recounting,  as  they  seemed  when,  living  in  their 
midst,  she  felt  the  excitement  of  the  action  while  the 
drama  was  being  played.  These  things  took  on  an- 
other aspect  now  and  seemed  unworthy  of  John's 
notice,  to  whom  so  much  graver  interests  were 
intrusted,  and  whose  advice  was  listened  to  by  gentle- 
men of  consequence.  As  for  John,  he  was  willing 
enough  to  slacken  the  ties  that  bound  him  to  his  past 
life,  and  yet  was  determined  that  none  should  have 
just  cause  to  say  that  he  had  forgotten  the  debt  he 
owed  them,  or  that  he  dishonored  the  obligation  when 
the  drafts  were  heavy  on  him. 

As  the  months  and  years  rolled  on,  John  grew  more 
important  to  Mr.  Muir,  and  his  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities made  him  a  graver  man,  with  the  weight  of 
character  that  belongs  to  an  established  position  in  the 
community. 

He  used  his  position  as  gypsy  chief  to  restore  plun- 
der, when  the  circumstances  appealed  to  his  sympa- 
thy, or  there  was  danger  of  an  outcry  which  would 
threaten  the  safety  of  the  band;  and  this  was  the 
easier  for  him  to  do,  because  his  knowledge  of  their 
secrets  gave  him  almost  a  power  of  life  or  death  over 
them. 

He  discovered  thefts  and  secured  restitution  after 
so  wonderful  a  fashion  that  the  country  people  be- 
lieved that  he  had  the  gift  of  second  sight,  and  feared 
and  respected  him,  as  they  are  apt  to  do  those  of 
uncanny  reputation. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 15 

John  grew  in  favor  with  the  Laird  of  Stoneywold, 
who  respected  him  for  his  true  manliness,  and  threw 
himself  without  reserve  upon  his  fealty,  and  nothing 
could  have  won  it  better.  His  allegiance  could  not 
be  bought  with  uataied  gold,  but  trust  in  his  truth 
held  him  with  hooks  of  steel. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"there  is   nae   sport  where    there   is   neither 
auld  folk  nor  bairns." 

AS  the  seasons  came  and  went  there  were  added  to 
the  family  at  Stoneywold  another  laddie,  Thomas, 
and  then,  in  regular  succession,  Janet,  Margaret,  and 
Helen,  and,  after  these,  Willie  and  Robert,  a  merry 
troup  which  kept  the  halls  resounding  with  the  tinkle 
of  children's  footsteps,  and  echoing  with  the  laughter 
of  the  bonnie  bairns.  Helen  Gunn  was  the  playmate 
of  them  all,  with  a  touch  of  the  wild,  free  nature  of 
her  race  that  made  her  fawn-like  and  lissome  in  heart 
and  action,  akin  to  little  children. 

John,  besides  his  duties  as  baillie  of  the  estate,  was 
the  preceptor  of  the  boys  in  all  that  related  to  out- 
door life,  the  teaching  not  to  be  had  from  the  books 
which  their  tutor  set  them  to  study.  They  were  as 
well  taught  in  folk  and  fairy  lore  as  children  of  a  later 
day,  for  they  needed  no  picture  books  to  endow  with 
life  the  vivid  scenes  which  Helen  would  portray  to 
the  gaping  circle,  tales  of  the  wild  gypsy  life,  of  the 
"Gaberlunzie  Man,"  of  old  John  Faa  the  Earl,  of 
"Rattlin*  Roarin'  Willie,"  and  of  her  own  life  by  the 
roadside.  With  old  Elspeth  the  children  became  as 
familiar  as  other  children  are  with  the  fairy  god- 
mother; and  she  ranked   beside  this  potent  actor  in 

116 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  "7 

the  drama,  which,  in  diverse  form,  is  pictured  for  the 
children  of  every  age,  where  good  and  evil  contend, 
and,  at  the  last,  the  good  is  on  the  winning  side,  as  it 
ought  to  be  for  children.  John  told  them  the  High- 
land tales  of  the  cantrips  of  wraith  and  sprite,  kelpie 
and  bogie,  until  their  hearts  would  beat  high  at  the 
roar  of  the  Don  water  in  the  spring  floods,  as  they  lis- 
tened for  the  kelpies'  cry. 

But  John  did  better  work  with  the  boys  than  this 
course  in  Highland  folk-lore;  he  taught  them  the 
manly  arts  of  which  it  becomes  a  lad,  whether  High- 
land or  Lowland,  to  be  master.  From  him  they 
learned  to  hunt  and  fish,  to  make  a  fly  and  cast  it  well, 
to  know  the  haunts  and  habits  of  trout  and  salmon, 
where  they  feed,  how  to  watch  for  them,  strike  them, 
and  land  them  deftly.  He  taught  them  to  swim  and 
row  a  boat,  to  follow  the  red  deer  and  find  the  grouse, 
to  ride  a  horse  and  break  him  to  saddle  or  harness, 
to  wrestle  and  ply  the  quarter-staff,  to  put  the  stone, 
to  jump,  and  to  play  at  golf.  The  boys  worshiped 
him  as  possessing  all  the  most  desirable  accomplish- 
ments; and  the  gaunt,  learned  stripling,  who  was  their 
tutor,  suffered  sadly  by  comparison  of  his  tamer  parts 
with  John's  more  manly  gifts.  In  all  these  matters 
James  took  the  lead;  Thomas  was  ill  fitted  to  control 
a  horse  and  was  slow  with  his  gun,  though  somewhat 
more  skillful  at  the  oars,  and  a  good  fisherman. 

As  the  lads  grew  and  their  characters  developed, 
James  showed,  more  and  more,  an  open  nature, 
strong  and  full  of  resources,  quick  to  make  friends 
and  apt  to  command ;  while  Thomas  was  secretive 
and  often  sullen,  always  ready  to  temporize,  trusting 


n8  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

to  gain  his  end  by  artifice  rather  than  to  meet  and 
conquer  a  difficulty  by  downright  force.  James  took 
defeat  in  good  part  and  laughed  off  his  disappoint- 
ment; Thomas  was  out  of  sorts  for  a  day  when  any 
got  the  better  of  him.  As  a  consequence  James  was 
a  favorite  with  all  the  tenants  and  the  children; 
Thomas  was  a  favorite  with  no  one  but  himself. 

Among  the  constant  visitors  to  the  Hall  was  Janet 
McKenzie,  a  Highland  cousin  from  Ardross,  a  bonnie 
lass,  full  of  life  and  freshness,  who,  like  the  heroine 
of  the  fairy  tale,  "had  skin  as  white  as  snow  and 
cheeks  as  red  as  a  rose,"  and  a  heart  as  sweet  as 
heather  in  bloom;  and  was  known  as  the  "Lily  and 
rose  of  Ross."  Her  favor  was  sought  by  both  the 
lads,  and,  while  yet  too  young  to  be  thinking  of  such 
things,  they  were  making  hot  love  to  their  cousin. 

Whatever  a  boy  could  bring  to  his  sweetheart  they 
vied  in  offering  to  her,  the  skin  of  an  otter,  the  plume 
of  a  bird,  or  the  first  wild  flowers;  and  in  this  contest 
James  had  always  the  advantage. 

The  pony  that  she  was  to  ride  had  been  broken  by 
James  to  a  gentle  gait  and  easy  control;  and,  while  he 
taught  her  to  manage  the  horse  and  jump  ditch  or 
hurdle,  Thomas  was  full  of  sulky  discontent,  seeing 
how  many  a  chance  was  open  to  James,  by  his  better 
knowledge  of  such  things,  to  win  a  gracious  smile 
of  thanks. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Mr.  Muir,  who  saw  that  Thomas 
was  not  apt  to  learn  nor  skilled  in  managing  affairs, 
concluded  that  he  was  best  fitted  for  a  seafaring  life, 
and  so,  when  he  was  about  fourteen,  sent  him  to  sea. 
From  time  to  time  he  came  back,  in  his  sailor  uni- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  HO 

form,  and,  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  seen  the 
great  world,  essayed  to  patronize  his  stay-at-home 
brother. 

But,  whatever  he  was  in  the  great  world,  at  Stoney- 
wold  he  must  play  a  second  part.  James  grew  to  be 
thorough  master  of  the  estate,  and,  as  his  father  ad- 
vanced in  years,  took  more  upon  himself,  having  John 
Gunn  at  his  elbow  to  tell  him  how  things  had  always 
been  managed;  and,  outside  the  estate,  he  was  a 
leader  of  the  hunting  parties,  a  man  of  mark  in  the 
shire,  of  whom  men  spoke  with  respect  as  a  rising 
man. 

From  time  to  time,  as  Janet  made  her  annual  visit 
to  Stoneywold,  she  grew  into  a  companionship  with 
James  that  was  natural  and  very  pleasant,  full  of 
mutual  confidences,  cousinly,  but  dangerous;  unless 
indeed  they  were  fearless  of  such  danger,  as  they 
seemed  to  be. 

The  first  sign  of  a  change  in  their  relation  as 
cousins,  girl  and  boy  together,  was  when  Janet,  now 
grown  to  be  eighteen  and  a  young  woman,  shrank 
gently  back  from  James's  warm  kiss  of  greeting. 

"Why,  Janet,"  said  the  astonished  James,  "will  ye 
hae  me  forget  that  we  are  nigh  o'  kin?" 

"I  winna  forget,  Jamie,"  she  said,  blushing  red, 
"that  I  am  nae  mair  a  child,  and  my  mither  says  that 
I  maun  always  remember  that  a  woman's  lips  are  for 
her  lover." 

To  himself  James  said:  "A  plague  on  the  saws  o'  a 
crabbit  auld  woman,"  but  to  Janet  he  replied,  with  a 
light  laugh:  "Then  I  maun  be  your  lover,  Janet,  and 
claim  my  right  for  aye." 


I20  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

But  no  such  off-hand  declaration  as  this  sufficed  to 
install  him  in  the  place. 

"That  may  be,  Jamie;  wha  can  tell?"  she  said,  as 
lightly  as  he  had  spoken.  Though,  if  the  truth  must 
be  told,  this  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  thought 
had  flitted  through  her  head.  "But  until  ye  are  my 
lover,  ye  maun  welcome  me  as  ye  do  ither  lassies,  wi' 
a  hearty  hand-shake  and  your  bonnie  smile.  And 
perchance  before  ye  are  minded  to  court  me,  my  lips 
will  be  pale  and  the  roses  faded  frae  my  cheeks,  so 
that  ye  winna  care  to  kiss  them." 

All  this  was  said  so  lightly  that  James  began  to  have 
an  uneasy  suspicion  that  there  was  some  Ross-shire 
carle  in  the  way,  and  that  he  had  been  left  behind  by 
not  seizing  the  lead  at  the  start.  He  had  often  lost  a 
race  by  this  blunder,  and  perhaps  it  was  true  in  this 
sort  of  race  that  a  good  lead  is  half  the  victory.  But 
the  grapes  that  hang  high  are  ever  the  sweetest,  and 
Janet's  lips  never  looked  so  tempting. 

"I  am  half  minded  to  snatch  a  kiss,  willy-nilly;  for 
he  that  winna  whan  he  may,  canna  whan  he  wad," 
he  said,  with  an  uneasy  laugh  and  a  saucy  light  in  his 
eye. 

"Ye  can  do  that,  right  easily,  Jamie,"  she  said, 
without  moving  a  step;  as  he  thought,  half  daring 
him  to  do  it.  "But  I  dinna  think  the  after-taste  o' 
such  stolen  fruit  is  sweet.  I  canna  say  nay  to  your 
strong  arms,  Jamie;  but  I  can  say  to  your  heart,  I 
wouldna  do  it  if  I  were  you." 

Jamie  began  hastily  to  make  excuse:  "But  I  hae  aft 
kissed  ye,  Janet.  I  hae  always  kissed  ye  whan  ye  first 
cam';  and  I  hae  no  kind  o'  likin'  for  this  new-fangled 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  12 1 

notion  that  ane  mair  year  can  mak'  a  bar  between 
those  wha  are  so  nigh  o'  kin."  Then  he  took  on  an 
injured  air,  and  sought  out  a  shaft  to  touch  a  tender 
spot  in  her  heart.  '  'Perchance  the  sweet  things  which 
some  Highland  lad  has  told  ye  turn  ye  awa'  frae  me; 
but  I'm  as  guid  as  ony  lad  o'  the  Highlands,  and  it 
needna  hurt  your  pride  when  ye  gae  back,  and  the 
gomeril  spiers,  did  I  kiss  ye,  to  tell  him  I  did.  It 
wouldna  spoil  your  lips  entirely  for  his  poutin* 
snout." 

"We  maun  quit  this  talk,  Jamie,"  Janet  said  quietly, 
though  her  lips  quivered  and  her  eye  glistened.  "I 
will  gae  to  your  mither,  for  her  welcome,"  and  she 
turned  and  left  him  thoroughly  crestfallen  and  ready 
to  bite  off  the  end  of  his  disgraceful,  unruly  tongue. 
Not  knowing  how  to  mend  the  matter  he  made  it  worse, 
by  keeping  aloof  from  Janet  all  day,  making  himself 
thoroughly  miserable,  and  her  unhappy.  Leaving  her 
to  ride  with  Thomas  that  afternoon,  he  wandered 
about  the  estate,  bent  on  forgetting  her;  and,  as  the 
thought  of  her  would  intrude,  he  began  to  resent  this 
as  of  her  doing  and  to  conjure  up,  from  her  words  or 
looks,  some  good,  solid  grievance,  some  heartless  con- 
duct which  would  let  him  accuse  her,  or  retort  so  that 
her  eyes  would  not  only  glisten  but  be  flooded  with 
tears — something  that  would  rankle  in  her  heart, 
making  her  as  thoroughly  miserable  as  he  was. 

Then  his  mood  would  change;  she  was  all  loveli- 
ness, and  he  would  plan  to  minister  to  her  pleasure 
and  move  her  heart  to  tenderness. 

He  spent  the  next  week  in  training  his  own  pony, 
which  no  one  but  himself  had  ever  ridden,  to  a  gentle 


122  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

gait,  and  brought  it  to  the  door,  himself,  for  her  to 
mount. 

"Why,  Jamie,  this  is  your  ain  Charlie;  I  canna  ride 
him,"  said  Janet,  with  glowing  eyes,  for  she  had  often 
wished  to  try  the  spirited  fellow. 

"I  hae  been  trainin'  him  a'  the  week,  while  you 
and  Thomas  were  ridin'.  He  is  gentle  noo,  and  will 
gang  an  easy  pace,  gin  ye  slacken  the  rein  a  bit  and 
say  'easy,  boy.'  I  kenned  ye  wished  to  ride  him," 
said  Jamie,  with  a  dejected  air. 

"But  what  will  ye  rideyoursel',  Jamie,"  said  Janet, 
winningly;  telling  him,  in  word  and  manner  both, 
whom  she  expected  for  her  cavalier. 

"I  winna  ride  ony  ither  o'  the  cattle,  and  ye  are 
sae  weel  fixed  wi'  Thomas  for  companion  that  it  wad 
seem  strange  wi'  me  alang;  but  I  kenned  ye  wad  be 
pleased  wi'  Charlie." 

->  She  smiled  her  thanks  and  told  him  how  much  she 
would  enjoy  a  ride  on  Charlie,  and  would  liked  to  have 
told  him  how  much  nicer  it  would  be  with  Charlie's 
master  along;  but  did  not. 

How  often  lips  are  sealed  and  opened  too  late  for 
those  whose  happiness  in  life  hangs  on  a  simple  word. 

As  Janet  rode  off,  smiling  her  thanks  and  shouting 
"back  that  Charlie's  gait  was  perfect,  James  ground  his 
teeth  and  denounced  her  as  heartless,  caring  only  to 
have  her  own  way,  at  the  cost  of  another's  suffering. 
Yet  all  the  while  he  did  not  believe  his  own  words, 
and  would  have  resented  them  from  other  lips ;  but  he 
wondered  whether  Thomas  made  love  to  her,  on  their 
long  rides;  and  whether  she  were  so  chary  of  her 
favors  to  him.     Altogether  the  tender  passion,  having 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  123 

gotten  a  twist  awry  in  this  young  man's  heart,  was 
anything  but  tender — in  fact,  was  very  savage;  show- 
ing what  our  better  traits  become  when  they  are  per- 
verted. 

Mrs.  Muir  looked  on  well-pleased  at  the  turn  of 
affairs;  for  it  suited  her  plans  that  Thomas  should 
wed  his  fair  cousin  of  Ardross,  who  had  a  small  dowry 
and  came  of  an  excellent  family.  For  her  eldest  son 
she  had  formed  more  ambitious  projects;  and  it  was 
high  time  to  set  things  in  train  to  realize  them. 

James  was  now  twenty-five ;  her  husband  was  show- 
ing signs  of  age,  even  she  herself  was  no  longer  young; 
the  estate  was  in  James's  hands  and  he  was  its  repre- 
sentative in  all  county  matters;  it  was  fitting  that  he 
should  become  the  nominal,  as  well  as  the  actual, 
head  of  the  house,  and  a  wife  to  preside  at  his  table 
was  indispensable. 

This  very  afternoon,  when  James,  in  desperate 
humor,  was  ready  to  berate  Janet  as  heartless  and 
faithless  to  unspoken  vows,  when  his  mind  was 
thoroughly  alienated  from  her,  did  Mrs.  Muir,  un- 
happily for  all  concerned,  select  as  the  fittest  time  to 
broach  this  subject. 

James  was  standing  on  the  lawn,  under  the  window, 
savagely  switching  off  every  flower  or  blade  of  grass 
that  lifted  its  head  above  its  fellows,  when  his  mother 
called  him.  He  came  and  sat  at  her  feet,  on  the 
window-sill. 

"Jamie,  I  am  minded  that  ye  shall  hae  charge  o' 
the  estate,"  began  Mrs.  Muir. 

"Aweel,  I  hae  a*  the  charge  o'  it  that  I  ken  how  to 
tak',"  replied  James,  not  very  graciously. 


124  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"I  ken  that  weel,  my  laddie;  but  we  are  minded 
to  hand  the  hale  matter  owre  to  ye  and  let  a'  the 
kintra-side  see  that  ye  are  the  Laird  o'  Stoneywold," 
said  Mrs.  Muir,  with  a  touch  of  pride  in  her  tone. 

"That  is  unco  kind,  mither;  but  I  wadna  hae  my 
faither  think  that  I  am  waitin'  for  deid  men's  shoon. 
For  a  son  that  does  that  should  gae  lang  barefoot. 
There  is  room  for  us  a'  under  the  roof;  I  winna  spier 
for  the  day  that  will  mak'  me  an  orphan,"  said  James, 
with  hearty  feeling. 

"Aye,  Jamie,  we  ken  that  surely.  Ye  are  a  guid 
son,  and  we  wad  fain  see  ye  where  it  is  your  Tight  to 
be,  the  Laird  o'  Stoneywold ;  and  then  ye  winna  wait 
for  deid  men's  shoon,"  said  Mrs.  Muir.  "But  your 
faither  will  settle  a'  that.  I  hae  summat  o'  anither 
kind  to  say  to  ye.  The  Laird  o'  Stoneywold  maun 
tak'  his  place  amang  the  gentry  o'  the  shire,  and,  for 
this,  he  needs  a  wife  to  bid  his  guests  welcome.  I  am 
no  longer  fit  to  haud  the  place  o'  Leddy  of  Stoney- 
wold, for  I  am  weary  o'  their  junketin's,  and  therefore 
ye  maun  choose  a  wife,  James,  wi'out  further  loss  o' 
time." 

"It  is  ill  choosin'  a  wife  till  a  man  kens  what  he 
will  do  wi'  her,"  replied  James,  taking  refuge  in  an 
old  proverb. 

"But  the  Laird  o'  Stoneywold  has  a  place  for  a 
wife,  fit  for  ony  leddy  in  the  land,"  said  Mrs.  Muir, 
determined  to  push  matters. 

"Aye,  that  may  be;  but  will  the  place  fit  the  wife 
or  will  the  wife  fit  the  place?"  said  James,  fencing. 

"I  ken  ane  wha  wad  fit  the  place,  and  wad  mak' 
the  place  fit  her — the  Leddy  Helen,  daughter  o'  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 25 

Earl  o'  Morven,  o'  gentle  blude  and  wi'  a  fine,  large 
dower.  I  was  told  by  Leddy  Mary  Douglas,  wha  is 
seekin'  a  bride  for  her  ain  lad,  that  the  Leddy  Helen 
will  fetch  to  her  husband's  house  a  tocher  naething 
less  than  thirty  thousand  pound,"  and  Mrs.  Muir  held 
her  breath  after  giving  utterance  to  the  astounding 
sum. 

"Then,  as  for  the  Leddy  Helen,  it  is  no  what  she  is, 
but,  what  has  she?"  said  James  with  a  cynical  smile. 
"Here  we  maun  needs  harry  oursel's  wi'  lookin'  for 
deid  men's  shoon.  It  aye  suits  me  better  to  deal  wi' 
the  livin'  and  hae  done  wi'  it." 

"Aweel  then,"  said  Mrs.  Muir,  showing  that  she 
was  prepared  for  a  siege,  "gin  ye  winna  tak'  tent  o' 
Leddy  Helen's  dowry,  what  say  ye  to  Margaret 
Erskine  o'  Pittoderie.  She  is  your  cousin,  and  ye 
canna  quarrel  wi'  the  blude  o'  the  Erskines  nor  wi' 
Margaret's  beauty.  She  hasna  the  tocher,  it  is  true, 
to  compare  wi'  Leddy  Helen's  noble  portion,  but  is 
fairly  dowered,"  and  Mrs.  Muir  watched  James 
keenly,  as  she  presented  the  points  of  these  available 
matches. 

James,  at  first  inclining  to  be  vexed,  now  fell  to 
being  amused  at  this  evidence  of  his  mother's  fendy 
care  of  his  matrimonial  interests. 

"Margaret  is  sae  tall  and  proud,  my  mither  dear," 
he  said  smiling.  "She  wad  freeze  the  marrow  in  my 
banes,  if  I  didna  keep  wi'  her  haughty  step  as  she 
swept  acrass  the  wide  hall ;  she  was  born  to  be  queen 
or,  at  the  least,  a  first  lady  of  honor.  Let  us  hear  o' 
the  next  o'  your  bonnie  damsels  that  are  waitin'  to  be 
made  mistress  o'  Stoneywold." 


126  A   HIGHLAND  CHRONICLE. 

"I  didna  say  ony  sic  a  thing,  Jamie;  and  I  weary 
o'  your  idle  clishmaclaver,  when  I  am  sair  in  earnest. 
I  hae  kept  my  e'en  open,  and  a  mither  can  tell  a  man 
what  he  canna  well  spier  for  himsel',  and  can  let  a  lad 
ken  the  tocher  and  temper  o'  some  wha  wad  mak'  him 
a  suitable  wife.  Ye  maun  do  your  ain  courtin',  as  ye 
see  your  brother  Thomas  do  his,"  said  Mrs.  Muir,  in 
a  tone  of  reproof.  Had  her  eyes  been  on  James,  she 
would  have  seen  him  wince  at  this;  as  it  was,  his 
mood  changed. 

"Aweel,  what  say  ye  to  Lord  Elsmere's  daughter, 
wi'  a  tocher  o'  forty  thousand  marks,  to  be  paid  down 
on  her  weddin'  day?  She  is  a  bright,  bonnie  lass,  wi' 
wham  ye  hae  danced  and  had  mony  a  pleasant  crack 
at  young  Eildon's  weddin*.  If  it  wad  please  ye  to 
ken  her  better,  we  can  easily  mend  the  trouble  o' 
scant  acquaintance;  I  will  gi'e  a  house  party,  wi'  her 
for  the  odd  guest  wham  ye  will  be  bound  to  look 
after;"  and  Mrs.  Muir  felt  as  if  she  were  getting 
"warm,"  as  the  children  call  it  in  their  play. 

"He  that  canna  do  as  he  wad,  maun  do  as  he  can," 
muttered  James;  which  was  an  enigma  to  his  mother. 
"I  will  first  gae  to  Kenmuir  Hall  and  begin  my 
acquaintance  under  her  father's  roof;  and  later  on  ye 
may  bring  her  here  as  a  guest,  if  things  move  on 
according  to  our  wish." 

This  suited  Mrs.  Muir  and  she  leaned  over  and 
kissed  her  son,  calling  him  the  pride  of  the  house; 
and  James  was  glad  that  somebody  was  pleased,  and 
thought  that  after  all  Annie  Elsmere,  with  her  pink 
cheeks,  flaxen  hair,  and  soft  blue  eyes,  would  not  make 
a  man  miserable,  and  would  be  a  dutiful  wife.     To- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 27 

morrow  he  would  ride  over  to  Kenmuir;  therefore 
Janet  could  not  have  Charlie. 

And,  all  this  while,  as  Janet  rode  through  the 
wooded  glen,  she  was  so  silent  that  Thomas  had  his 
thoughts  for  his  company,  and  her  eyes  looked  dark 
and  deep,  as  she  thought  how  much  time  James  must 
have  spent  to  train  his  pony,  and  all  to  please  her. 
This  thought  kept  her  company  for  many  a  mile,  so 
that  she  did  not  care  to  talk,  but  rode  along  in  happy 
contentment  with  this  one  sweet  morsel,  turning  it 
over  and  over,  and  always  with  some  new  sweetness 
in  it. 

When  they  reached  home  James  was  ready  to  lift 
her  from  the  pony,  and,  without  waiting  for  him  to 
ask,  she  told  him  how  charming  her  ride  had  been ; 
all  which  he  set  down  as  another  step  in  the  progress 
of  Thomas's  wooing  and  another  argument  in  favor  of 
Annie  Elsmere. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  canna  promise  ye  the  same  pleas- 
ure to-morrow,"  said  James  moodily;  "but  I  hae 
need  o'  the  horse  mysel'." 

"Oh!  I  didna  count  on  that,  Jamie,"  said  Janet 
sweetly.  "One  canna  expect  twa  sic  rides.  We 
taste  sic  pleasures  only  once."  Then  Jamie  was 
sure  that  Thomas  had  given  the  girl  the  taste  of  a 
lover's  first  utterance  of  his  passion,  hot  and  eager  in 
its  uncertainty,  the  thrill  of  which  can  never  be  re- 
peated ;  and  as  he  looked  on  Janet  she  seemed  homely 
as  compared  with  Annie;  she  was  certainly  wanting 
in  womanly  reserve,  thus  to  flaunt  his  brother's  pro- 
posal in  his  face,  when  the  matter  was  scarce  con- 
cluded.    He  was  glad  that  it  was  not  his  love  affair 


128  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

that  was  being  thus  hastily  paraded,  and  the  delicate 
aroma  of  its  secrecy  thrown  away  before  it  was  an 
hour  old. 

"I  hae  business  o'  moment  that  ca's  me  to  Ken- 
muir  Hall  to-morrow,  or  I  wad  gie  ye  anither  ride  on 
Charlie,"  said  James,  with  a  mingled  emotion  of  love 
and  hatred  toward  this  splendid  girl  whom  he  was  to 
call  sister. 

"Aweel,"  thought  he,  "she  maun  greet  owre  it  yet; 
wi'out  ony  muckle  tocher,  on  Thomas's  pay  as  a  sailor, 
they  may  fare  hard."  Then  he  pictured  how  he 
would  come  to  their  aid,  and  she  would  thank  him  and 
love  him  with  the  grateful  affection  of  a  sister;  and  it 
made  him  heartsick  to  think  of  it. 

"Can  I  ride  wi'  ye  to  Kenmuir,  Jamie?  I  wad  fain 
see  Annie;  she  and  I  hae  had  mony  a  pleasant  time 
togither, "  said  Janet,  with  a  little  pleading  tone;  for 
she  saw  that  something  was  amiss. 

"I  think  not,"  answered  James  brusquely.  "An- 
nie will  be  busy;  and  twa  is  aye  sonsie;  ye  can  bide 
wi'  Thomas."  He  looked  her  full  in  the  face,  over 
which  a  shadow  passed  at  his  brusque  denial;  but 
there  was  not  a  trace  of  change  at  the  latter  part  of 
his  speech. 

When  the  morrow  came,  true  to  his  perverse 
humor,  off  went  James  to  Kenmuir  Hall,  and  Janet 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  He  did  not  ride  off  like  a 
gay  cavalier  bound  on  a  gallant  errand.  Perhaps  it 
would  have  cheered  him  had  he  known  that,  behind 
the  blinds  of  her  casement,  Janet  watched  him  while 
the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  at  the  thought  of  how 
all  was  changed  between  them — and  why? 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  129 

This  she  could  not  ask  him ;  and,  when  she  asked 
her  own  heart,  she  could  find  no  answer.  But  she 
watched  him  out  of  sight,  and  then  sank  down  on  the 
floor,  with  her  head  on  the  casement  sill,  and  let  the 
tears  flow  unchecked,  while  the  soft  summer  air  blew 
over  her  face,  and  seemed  to  make  her  more  desolate. 

She  started,  like  a  guilty  thing,  when  the  latch  of 
her  chamber  door  was  lifted  and  Mrs.  Muir  came  in. 
Janet  was  always,  more  or  less,  afraid  of  her  stately 
cousin ;  for  as  the  years  had  flown  Mrs.  Muir  had 
grown  more  formal  in  manner,  with  the  air  of  a  woman 
of  the  world,  and  imperative  as  one  used  to  having 
her  way  in  her  own  domain  and  not  ready  to  tolerate 
insubordination. 

Janet  thought  her  hard  and  unfeeling,  which  was  not 
true ;  but  she  was  certainly  determined  to  have  her 
way. 

She  came  over  to  where  Janet  was  seated  on  the 
floor,  and,  either  not  seeing  or  not  choosing  to  notice 
the  traces  of  tears,  said,  in  that  decisive  tone  which 
always  frightened  Janet : 

"I  hae  been  minded  to  talk  wi'  ye,  Janet,  before  ye 
left  us.  Ye  are  grown  to  be  a  woman  noo,  my  lassie, 
and  it  is  time  for  ye  to  think  o'  bein*  a  wife."  Tak- 
ing no  note  of  Janet's  deprecatory  gesture  and  excla- 
mation, she  went  on:  "Oh!  I  ken  a'  that  folly,  that 
young  lassies  shouldna  think  on  sic  matters  till  the  lad 
has  come  and  spoken  to  them  ;  but  that  is  neither  here 
nor  there,  the  hizzies  hae  their  heads  fu'  o'  it;  and, 
gin  they  wad  be  douce  and  honest,  let  them  show  it 
by  the  way  they  hearken  to  the  counsel  o'  women  wha 
ken  o*  sic  matters  and  can  tell  them  what  they  winna 


13°  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

hear  frae  the  love-sick  lads.  I  wad  see  ye  mak'  a 
wise  choice,  and  I  think  ye  winna  be  wholly  averse  to 
my  counsel,  when  I  tell  ye  that  ye  maun  gae  farther 
and  fare  worse  than  to  come  into  this  house  as  a 
daughter,  where  ye  will  hae  a  bonnie  welcome,"  said 
the  old  lady  kindly;  for  she  was  fond  of  Janet,  who 
had  never  crossed  her;  whereas  her  own  daughter, 
Margaret  (the  only  surviving  one  of  the  four),  being 
cast  in  the  same  mold,  had  often  come  into  conflict 
with  her,  and  the  issue  of  such  contests  had  not  been 
decisive  victory  for  Mrs.  Muir. 

In  answer  to  this  discreet  counsel,  Janet  hid  her 
face  on  the  window-sill  and  the  crimson  blushes  suf- 
fused her  face  and  neck. 

"I  thought  as  much,  my  dear,"  said  the  merciless 
old  lady.  "Nay,  I  was  sure  of  it,  or  I  would  not 
have  spoken.  And  now,  my  dear,  my  mind  is  weel 
at  rest.  I  had  a  long  talk  wi'  Jamie  yesterday,  and 
all  is  clear  before  me;  I  shall  see  my  sons  in  honor 
and  happy,  and,  as  for  Margaret  and  me,  we  will  do 
verra  weel  togither.  I  misdoubt  me  that  Margaret 
was  designed  by  Providence  for  ony  man  that  I  hae 
met,  up  to  this  moment."  She  patted  Janet  on  the 
head,  and,  as  she  rose  to  go,  added,  "We  shall  hear 
frae  Jamie,  when  he  returns  to-night,"  and  then  left 
the  room. 

She  found  Thomas  in  the  hall  below  and  bid  him 
set  his  mind  at  rest,  for  his  cousin  Janet  had  confessed 
her  love  for  him.  "But  ye  maun  say  naething  to  her 
while  she  bides  wi'  us.  It  is  aye  fittin'  that  a  maid 
be  wooed  in  her  ain  hame.  Gin  ye  arena  man  eneuch 
to  gae  and  seek  her,  she  hauds  hersel'  too  cheap  if  she 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  131 

doesna  say  ye  nay."  Moreover  the  crafty  old  lady 
proposed  to  have  a  word  with  Lady  Ardross,  whose 
pride,  and  ambition  for  her  daughter,  might  require 
some  persuasion,  and  who  would  surely  want  to  know 
just  what  Mr.  Thomas  Muir's  prospects  were,  before 
she  would  smile  on  this  trysting. 

Janet  was  left  in  a  turmoil  of  feeling.  She  did  not 
doubt,  for  a  moment,  who  was  her  lover,  but  she 
would  rather  have  had  him  speak  for  himself.  Never- 
theless she  gave  herself  over  to  the  sweet  illusion,  and 
explained  away  Jamie's  wayward  conduct,  and, 
reviewing  the  history  of  the  past  three  or  four  weeks, 
understood  the  training  of  the  pony;  but  there  were 
other  things  not  so  easy  to  understand.  Mrs.  Muir's 
vague  allusion  to  her  sons.  What  had  Thomas  to  do 
with  this?  Why  did  not  Jamie  let  her  go  to  Kenmuir 
and  tell  her  this  as  they  rode  along,  instead  of  leaving 
her  alone  all  day,  to  be  told  it  by  his  mother.  He 
must  make  amends  to  her  for  this,  unless  he  had  a 
better  explanation  than  she  could  devise. 

Ah  well!  this  evening  would  bring  the  sweet  assur- 
ance from  his  own  lips;  and  what  were  lovers'  misun- 
derstandings, but  the  little  artifices  by  which  more 
tenderness  was  won  and  warmer  kisses  given  than 
where  all  goes  smooth  and  fair. 

Then  she  blushed  with  the  thought  of  how  all  this 
would  sound  in  words,  but  justified  herself  by  the 
thought  that  she  had  been  sought  and  won,  and  to-night 
she  was  to  hear  it  from  Jamie  himself. 

That  evening  she  gave  more  thought  and  care  to  her 
toilet  than  she  had  ever  done  in  all  her  life,  combing 
and  brushing  her  soft  hair  until  its  golden  threads 


132  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

looked  burnished,  pondering  over  the  dress  she  should 
wear,  and  the  ribbon  she  should  twine  in  her  hair; 
and,  in  the  end,  choosing  her  simplest  white  muslin 
gown,  with  a  pale  blue  ribbon  in  her  hair,  this  being 
Jamie's  favorite  color.  Her  sole  ornament  was  a 
brooch  which  Jamie  had  given  her  one  Christmas  long 
ago,  a  band  of  silver  twisted  into  a  true  lover's  knot; 
and,  the  while,  she  said  softly  to  herself:  "I  ken  that 
Jamie  loves  me  weel;  and  to-night  I  will  hear  it  frae 
his  ain  lips;  and  I  needna  dress  mysel'  in  aught  but 
simple  white,  for  he  loves  me  for  mysel'  alane.  When 
will  he  tell  me?  and  what,  I  wonder,  are  the  words  he 
will  say?  and  oh!  what  will  I  say  to  him?  I  shall  be 
sair  frighted  when  he  tak's  me  by  the  hand  and  says, 
'Janet,  I  hae  summat  to  say  to  ye.'  Then  I'll  toss 
my  arms  about  his  neck  and  hide  my  face  on  his 
breast,  and  say,  'Aye,  Jamie,  I  ken  and  I  lo'e  ye  wi' 
my  heart's  blude.'  I  canna  bear  to  hear  it  frae  his 
ain  lips;  my  heart  would  burst  wi'  joy,  and  I  should 
die  in  his  arms.  It  was  kind  o'  him  to  send  me  the 
message  by  anither;  he  knew  I  couldna  thole  such  joy 
and  live." 

And  thus  her  loving  fancy  wrought  out  such  an 
explanation  of  the  strange  manner  of  her  wooing  as 
would  do  credit  to  the  tenderness  of  her  lover. 

How  long  the  summer  day  seemed,  and  yet  the 
quick-coming  fancies  kept  pace  with  the  flying  mo- 
ments ;  or  the  old  ones  served,  over  and  over  again,  to 
pass  the  time. 

But  at  last,  as  the  twilight  was  falling,  she  heard 
the  clatter  of  his  horse's  hoofs.  How  faint  it  made 
her  feel;  with  what  a  rush  the  blood  surged  through 


J 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  133 

her  veins,  while  her  breath  came  thick  and  hard.  She 
sat  down,  closed  her  eyes,  and,  amid  the  tumult,  tried 
to  think.  What  should  she  do,  go  on  to  meet  him,  or 
wait  until  they  called  her?  Either  too  great  haste 
or  too  long  delay  would  be  conspicuous;  and,  while 
she  hesitated,  the  chance  of  meeting  him  at  his  com- 
ing was  gone.  She  heard  the  retreating  steps  of  his 
horse,  as  the  groom  led  him  away. 

Why  did  they  have  such  a  leaden  sound,  dreary 
enough,  almost,  to  bring  tears  to  her  eyes? 

"Because  Jamie  is  not  on  him,"  she  thought,  and 
laughed  softly  to  herself;  "the  very  pony  feels  proud 
to  be  his.  What  winna  it  be  to  be  his  wife?  It  will 
gar  me  step  proud  and  light;"  then  she  blushed 
again. 

When  sufficient  time  had  passed  for  his  mother  to 
have  a  chance  to  tell  him  how  she  was  waiting  for  him 
to  claim  her,  she  came  slowly  down  the  stairs  and 
into  the  reception  room  next  the  dining  hall,  where 
all  the  family  were  assembled  listening  to  the  news 
and  messages  which  Jamie  had  brought  from  Ken- 
muir  Hall. 

Jamie  stood  by  the  mantel,  facing  the  door,  booted 
and  spurred  from  his  ride,  twirling  his  riding  cap  in 
his  hand,  with  his  short  velvet  riding  jacket  open  on 
his  chest,  his  cheeks  flushed  with  exercise;  one  elbow 
rested  on  the  mantel  shelf,  and  he  was  looking  down 
on  the  floor,  when  Janet  caught  sight  of  him. 

At  the  sound  of  her  light  step,  he  lifted  his  eyes  and 
saw  her  framed  in  the  doorway ;  all  the  rest  of  the 
group  were  sitting  with  their  backs  to  the  door,  and 
so,  for  a  moment,  as  their  eyes  met,  they  were  alone. 


134  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Janet  paused  on  the  threshold — how  could  she  greet 
him  before  them  all.  Her  eyes  drooped  to  the  floor, 
her  face  flushed,  her  breast  heaved — how  beautiful 
she  looked,  "standing  where  the  brook  and  river 
meet,"  waiting  for  her  lover. 

He'started  as  his  eye  fell  on  her,  and,  at  a  glance, 
took  in  the  exceeding  beauty  of  her  face  and  form  and 
the  stately  grace  of  her  movement;  and  he  thought 
how  many  miles  he  had  ridden  to-day,  and  might  ride 
far  and  wide  for  many  a  day,  and  not  find  such  grace 
and  gentleness,  such  dignity  and  sweetness,  as  met  him 
in  the  doorway  of  his  own  home.  There  too  was  his 
favorite  color,  and  the  brooch  he  had  given  her  at  her 
throat;  it  was  maddening  to  think  how  he  had  let  this 
prize  slip  through  his  fingers. 

Then  he  went  forward  to  meet  her,  and,  as  she 
clasped  his  hand  for  a  moment,  she  looked  up  shyly 
in  his  face  and  whispered :  "I  ken  it  a',  Jamie;  and 
am  very  happy,  and  am  waitin'  to  hear  it  frae  your 
ain  lips." 

At  first  he  was  dumfounded,  and  then  furious.  Of 
what  stuff  was  this  girl  made?  Was  there  no  spark  of 
maiden  modesty  in  her  nature,  that  she  prattled,  first 
of  her  own  love  affairs,  and  then  assumed  to  know  of 
his?  And  who,  forsooth,  had  told  of  his  errand  to 
Kenmuir;  or  had  she  chosen  to  infer  it  from  his  few 
words  and,  on  that  slight  suggestion,  made  free  to 
greet  him  thus.  The  girl  was  gone  daft  on  this  sub- 
ject, and  assumed  that  all  the  world  was  as  crazy  as 
herself. 

Poor  Janet!  how  could  she  guess  what  a  storm  her 
tender  little  speech  had  roused.     Nor  was  it  any  easier 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  135 

to  guess  why,  when  supper  was  ended,  Jamie  abruptly 
rose  and  left  the  table,  where  he  had  sat  silent  and 
moody,  and  went  his  way  out  over  the  fields  and  was 
not  seen  again  that  evening. 

She  went  early  to  her  room,  under  cover  of  the 
feminine  plea  of  a  headache  (which  in  her  case  was 
true  enough,  with  heartache  into  the  bargain),  and 
there  wept  out  the  sorrow  which  could  find  no  other 
voice  than  solitary  tears. 

What  did  it  all  mean?  He  had  come  forward  to 
meet  her,  with  glowing  face,  and  as  she  told  him  that 
his  message  was  received  and  gave  him  the  answer  to 
it,  with  her  eyes  and  the  clasp  of  her  hand,  his  face 
darkened  and  he  had  turned  from  her,  as  though 
spurning  her  love. 

How  different  the  night  was  from  the  day. 

Then  she  had  recourse  to  the  stronghold  of  women, 
"she  would  wait" — the  patience  of  the  saints. 

But  how  hard  to  be  a  woman  and  have  to  wait, 
when  the  soft  breath  of  a  word  would  dispel  this  cloud 
of  misery. 

And  as  she  waited,  with  her  head  on  the  casement 
sill,  for  the  cool  night  air  to  fan  it,  his  step  sounded 
on  the  walk  below,  uneasy  and  restless  it  seemed  to 
her;  every  now  and  then,  his  heel  would  come  down 
with  a  heavy  crunch  on  the  hard  road,  and  she  knew 
that  he  was  ill  at  ease. 

Then,  in  the  dim  moonlight,  she  saw  him  stand, 
looking  toward  her  window,  and  raise  his  hand  with  a 
gesture  of  despair  and  grind  his  heel  on  the  road. 
What  did  it  all  mean? 

Having  borne  it  for  what  seemed  hours — the  clock 


136  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

would  have  said  fifteen  minutes,  but,  in  the  darkness, 
she  measured  time  by  the  beating  of  her  heart — when 
the  limit  of  endurance  had  been  reached,  she  rose 
and  slipped  softly  down  the  stairs,  and  through  the 
great  dark  hall,  with  its  grim  suits  of  armor  looking 
ghostly  in  the  moonlight  and  the  great  boar's  tusks 
grinning  at  her  out  of  the  darkness;  but  if  the  hall 
had  been  full  of  demons,  she  would  have  made  her 
way,  as  they  do  in  the  fairy  tales,  by  the  virtue  of  the 
true  love  that  conquers  demons.  Out  through  the 
wide  oaken  doors  she  went  lightly  and  swiftly,  and,  as 
Jamie  turned  in  one  of  his  restless  courses,  there  in 
the  shadow  of  the  beech  tree  Janet  was  standing,  just 
as  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  like  a  beautiful  wraith 
come  to  mock  his  despair.  He  was  startled  into  the 
momentary  belief  that  it  was  a  cantrip  o'  th^  deil,  or 
that  his  despair  had  driven  him  mad,  as  he  knew  that 
it  would. 

But  gliding  swiftly  up  to  him,  Janet  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck:  "I  ken  that  ye  love  me,  Jamie,  and, 
gin  ye  are  in  trouble,  my  place  is  at  your  side." 

"What  was  coming  to  pass  and  from  whom  had  this 
girl  the  gift  of  second  sight?"  This  was  his  first 
thought;  then,  quick  on  the  heels  of  this,  his  sense  of 
honor  reminded  him  that  the  kisses  of  his  brother's 
betrothed  were  not  for  his  lips. 

"Ay,  Janet,"  he  groaned,  "ye  say  true;  I  love  ye 
better  than  life;  better,  I  sometimes  fear,  than  honor. 
I  love  ye  to  my  ain  undoin',  for  I  canna  live  and  see 
ye  the  bride  o'  anither." 

"And  that  can  never  be,  my  ain  Jamie.  How 
could  I  be  yours  and  yet  anither's.     I  hae  been  yours, 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  137 

Jamie,  syne  ye  pinned  this  brooch  on  my  neck,  lang 
ago.  I  hae  laid  it  awa'  and  keepit  the  bawbie  to  look 
on,  and  vowed  that  I  wad  never  wear  it  until  you 
claimed  my  love,  Jamie."  And  she  added  archly, 
"I  hae  brought  it  wi'  me  every  time  I  came  to  Stoney- 
wold,  and  never  had  a  chance  to  wear  it  until  I  got 
your  message  to-day." 

Some  light  was  glimmering  in  his  darkened  mind; 
this  was  Janet  in  the  flesh,  and  she  loved  him  and  not 
Thomas;  but  there  were  depths  still  beyond  his  reach. 

"But  how  did  ye  ken  o'  my  love  for  ye,  Janet?"  he 
asked,  clasping  her  close  to  him. 

"Your  mither  gied  me  the  message  ye  left  for  me, 
Jamie,"  she  said,  wondering  that  he  should  ask  her 
such  a  question. 

"Oh!  Aye.  I  didna  ken  that  she  had  told  you," 
said  Jamie,  at  a  loss  to  know  how  his  mother  could 
have  been  the  bearer  of  any  such  message,  after  her 
talk  with  him;  but  determined  that  no  cloud  should 
dim  Janet's  happiness. 

"I  was  sad,  at  first,  to  think  that  I  didna  hear  it 
frae  your  ain  lips,  Jamie,"  she  said,  with  her  hands 
clasped  over  his  shoulder  and  looking  up  in  his  face. 
"But  ye  kenned  that  my  heart  wad  overflow,  and  I 
might  faint,  or  perchance  die,  in  your  arms;  but  I 
can  bear  to  hear  ye  tell  it  noo,  Jamie;  and  ye  maun 
say  it  aince  mair,  and  leave  off  that  about  the  undoin' 
o"  it." 

So  he  told  it  to  her  over  and  over,  while  she  drank 
it  in  as  living  water.  There  were  no  explanations 
asked  or  offered  on  either  side ;  it  was  enough  that 
they  were  all  in  all  to  each  other. 


138  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

The  moon  has  looked  on  countless  lovers  exchang- 
ing vows,  but  never  on  a  happier  pair  than  this  Low- 
land laddie  and  his  Highland  lassie,  who  exchanged 
no  vows,  but  simply  loved  and  trusted  one  another. 

After  one  short  hour  she  left  him,  and,  returning  to 
her  casement,  looked  out  on  the  night — the  night  so 
still  and  cheerful,  now — and  wondered  that  the  stars 
did  not  sing  together  for  joy.  She  watched  him  walk- 
ing up  and  down,  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  with 
elastic  steps  ringing  with  triumphant  joy,  and  it  ex- 
cited her,  made  her  laugh  low  and  sweet,  to  think  how 
she  had  changed  his  step.  His  quick  ear  caught  the 
rippling  laugh  as  it  floated  out  on  the  night  air,  and 
stepping  under  her  window  he  made  her  toss  him 
down  a  kiss,  and  was  only  driven  away  when  she 
threw  him  the  ribbon  from  her  hair  to  put  under  his 
pillow  and  dream  over. 

Alas!  for  the  power  of  the  love  charm;  he  dreamed 
of  a  vicious  colt  that  he  was  breaking,  who  gave  him 
a  tumble  that  hurt  his  pride  and  bruised  his  back; 
and  woke  to  find  that  his  restless  heart  had  tumbled 
him  out  of  bed  on  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"ye  hae   tied    a    knot    wi'  your   tongue   that 
ye  canna   undo  wi*  your  teeth." 

THE  night  has  its  dreams  and  the  day  its  rude 
awakenings;  and  on  the  next  morning  these  lov- 
ers saw  their  dream  of  the  night  fade  into  the  light  of 
common  day.  James  took  an  early  opportunity  to  tell 
his  mother,  while  Thomas,  despising  his  mother's 
counsel,  went  to  tell  Janet  of  his  love,  and,  when  she 
firmly  repulsed  him,  persisted  until  he  forced  her,  in 
self-defense,  to  tell  him  that  she  was  pledged  to  James, 
which  she  did  with  mingled  pride  and  modesty,  being 
only  half  sure  that  it  was  indeed  true. 

Thomas  was  furious  and  hurried  to  take  counsel 
with  his  mother  as  to  how  they  might  interrupt  the 
course  of  this  love  story. 

Here,  too,  he  was  forestalled,  for  as  he  drew  near  the 
house  he  overheard  his  mother  in  heated  discussion 
with  James. 

Thomas  thought  it  prudent  to  linger  and  hear  the 
drift  of  this  conversation,  as  it  was  well  to  be  posted 
on  all  sides  of  an  affair  whose  turn  one  could  never 
foretell. 

And  this  is  what  he  heard.     James  had  just  an- 
nounced to  his  mother  that  Janet  had  accepted  his 
proffered  love,  to  which  she  made  answer: 
139 


14°  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"I  winna  hear  o'  it  at  all,  Jamie,  and  I  canna  be- 
lieve that  ye  are  in  earnest.  I  think  better  o'  ye; 
better  o  'your  head  and  your  heart  too,  for  that  mat- 
ter. Where  is  your  bonnie  Annie?  Your  lips  werena 
cold  frae  your  partin'  wi'  her  and  here  ye  are  wi'  your 
cousin  in  your  arms.  Do  ye  court  twa  lassies  at 
aince,  and  which  wi'  your  left  hand?  Ye  needna 
speak;  I  haena  said  the  half  o'  what  I  wish  to  tell  ye. 
Hae  ye  no  thought  for  a'  that  I  hae  spent  in  time  and 
patience  to  win  ye  a  lass  wha  has  a  tocher  to  befit  your 
bride  and  a  place  in  the  society  o'  the  shire  that  will 
gie  ye  a  lift.  Janet  is  weel  eneuch  in  her  namely 
way;  but  she  is  frae  a  rough  shire  and  has  a  smack  o' 
it  in  her  manners,  which  doesna  befit  the  bride  o'  the 
young  Laird  o'  Stoneywold;  and  ye  canna  win  our 
consent  to  ony  sic  sorry  business."  Mrs.  Muir's 
breath  was  spent,  and,  as  she  paused,  James  answered 
quietly : 

"It  is  unco  late  in  the  day  to  bring  these  matters  to 
the  fore,  whan  I  hae  already  plighted  my  troth  to 
Janet,  mither. " 

"It  will  be  late  in  a  lang  day  e'er  ye  hae  anither 
chance  to  mak'  a  gomeril  o*  yoursel',  Jamie,"  an- 
swered his  mother.  "Ye  hae  nae  business  plightin' 
your  troth  wi'out  consultin'  your  faither  or  me. 
And  didna  ye  plight  your  troth  to  Annie  Elsmere 
first;  and  ye  maun  bide  by  your  promise  to 
her." 

"Nay,  mither,"  said  James  firmly.  "I  spoke  nae 
word  o'  love  to  Annie.  I  saw  her  at  dinner  only,  for 
I  rode  to  the  hunt  a'  the  day." 

"Ye  promised  me  to  court  her,  when  ye  left  in  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  141 

mornin';  and   which   word  am   I   to   believe?"    said 
Mrs.  Muir,  in  a  taunting  tone. 

"Whichever  ye  choose  to  believe,  mither;  but  I 
gave  no  promise  to  court  her,  but  only  to  seek  further 
acquaintance  wi'  her,"  said  James  stoutly. 

"And  ye  sought  her  acquaintance  in  the  brush, 
did  ye?"  retorted  Mrs.  Muir.  "Do  ye  think  that  ye 
ken  women  and  their  wiles,  laddie?  How  weel  are  ye 
acquaint  wi'  Janet?  I  can  gie  ye  a  bit  o'  news  anent 
her.  She  told  me  o'  her  love  for  Thomas  yester 
morn,  when  ye  rode  awa'  to  your  Annie,  and  by  night 
she  has  anither  tale  for  your  lugs.  She'll  mak'  ye  a 
braw  wife  wi'out  dower  or  truth,"  and  Mrs.  Muir 
waited  for  this  shot  to  tell,  while,  out  on  the  lawn, 
Thomas  grinned. 

There  was  a  mystery  here;  but  James  would  not 
make  any  inquiry  of  his  mother.  The  explanation 
must  come  from  Janet's  lips,  and  he  would  accept  it 
against  any  array  of  testimony;  for,  now  that  he  knew 
of  her  love,  he  was  ready  to  trust  her  without  reserve. 
But  it  worried  him. 

"She  did  not  tell  ye  that  she  loved  Thomas,"  he 
said,  groping  for  some  solid  ground.  "Ye  wished  it 
to  be,  and  chose  to  believe  that  it  was  so." 

"I  winna  bear  such  contradiction,"  said  Mrs. 
Muir  sternly.  "I  went  to  her  room  and  found  her 
spierin'  out  at  the  window  for  Thomas,  and  I  taxed 
her  wi'  it  and  she  confessed  it  to  me ;  and  I  will  force 
the  confession  frae  the  fause  hizzie." 

James  rose:  "I  winna  hear  ye  ca'  Janet  by  sic  a 
name,  mither.  She  is  to  be  my  wife,  and  I  maun 
haud  her  in  honor  and  will  listen  to  nane,  no.  not  my 


142  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

ain  mither,  misca'  a  lassie  sae  guid  and  true,"  and 
he  turned  to  go. 

Mrs.  Muir's  anger  burst  all  bounds,  as  she  rose  to 
her  feet.  "If  ye  ca'  a  woman  guid  wha  can  steal  into 
a  family  and  teach  the  son  o'  an  ancient  and  honor- 
able house  to  forget  the  duty  that  God  and  man  haud 
sacred,  the  honor  o'  a  son  to  faither  and  mither ;  and 
if  ye  ca'  her  true  wha  can  plight  hersel'  to  ane  in  the 
morn  and  to  anither  at  night,  then  hae  ye  learned  o' 
guidness  and  truth  frae  ither  lips  than  your  ancestors 
o'  Stoneywold ;  and  the  lassie  sae  guid  and  true  is  o' 
ither  blude  and  breedin'  frae  the  leddies  o'  this  house. 
And  I  tell  ye  she  shall  not  enter  it  as  your  wife,  James 
Muir,  and  ye  will  hear  the  same  frae  your  faither's 
lips." 

And  so  they  parted,  each  more  firmly  set,  Mrs. 
Muir  to  find  her  husband  and  James  to  seek  Janet. 

What  her  husband  would  say,  Mrs.  Muir  could 
promise  without  reservation ;  for  she  made  him  say 
it.  In  such  affairs  as  this  he  did  not  lay  claim  to  any 
gifts  at  disposing  of  them  comparable  with  hers. 
Their  interview  was  therefore  brief  but  satisfactory. 

"I  hae  just  heard  a  bit  o'  astoundin'  news  frae 
James,"  said  Mrs.  Muir,  in  a  tone  that  set  the  old 
Laird  on  edge  at  once.  "He  has  been  makin'  love 
to  Janet;  or  she  to  him,  wha  kens;  and  they  hae 
settled  their  affairs  wi'out  a  by-your-leave  to  faither 
or  mither." 

"Aweel,  Helen,  I  misdoubt  ye  are  pleased  wi*  the 
match,  to  judge  by  your  tone,"  said  Mr.  Muir  un- 
easily. "But  bairns  will  be  bairns,  and  we  maun  let 
them  play  at  sic  matters,  as  we  did  in  our  time." 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  M3 

"I  winna  let  them  play  at  ony  sic  mixtie-maxtie," 
said  Mrs.  Muir,  with  added  emphasis.  "It  isna  play 
whan  they  are  sae  far  grown  as  these  twa  coofs ;  for 
they  arena  bairns  but  man  and  woman.  I  hae  secured 
anither  match  for  James,  and  this  lass  is  for  Thomas. 
I  winna  hear  o'  it." 

"Aweel,  Helen,  ye  ken  o'  sic  matters,  and  I  ken 
naething  at  a',"  said  the  Laird  wearily. 

"But  ye  ken  that  James  needs  money  to  improve 
the  estate,  and  a  wife  that  can  tak'  a  lead  in  the 
shire,"  in  a  tone  that  left  the  old  Laird  no  excuse 
that  he  did  not  know  it  now.  '  'And  I  winna  bide  in 
the  house  wi'  the  hizzie;  and  ye  will  tell  James  that 
ye  withhold  your  consent." 

"Aye,  Helen,  if  ye  canna  bide  together,  ye  surely 
hae  the  first  right  to  be  considered,"  said  Mr.  Muir 
soothingly. 

"And  ye  will  tell  him,"  said  Mrs.  Muir  decidedly, 
"that  it  isna  on  my  account,  but  because  ye  canna 
approve  o'  this  matter.  Mind  ye  are  firm,  James,  and 
let  the  lad  understand  it  rightly." 

"Aye,  Helen,  I  will,"  said  the  old  man  wearily;  for 
he  had  a  sore  twinge  of  the  gout,  and,  being  worn 
with  pain,  was  in  haste  to  be  through  with  the  discus- 
sion.    So  she  had  her  way,  as  had  happened  before. 

Her  next  business  was  to  settle  matters  with  Janet; 
but  here  James  had  been  beforehand  with  her.  He 
had  sought  Janet  immediately  after  the  interview  with 
his  mother. 

"I  hae  talked  wi'  my  mither,  Janet,  and  there  are 
some  things  I  canna  understand.  She  tells  me  ye 
were  minded  to  gie  your  heart  to  Thomas,  and  that  I 


144  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

hae  interfered  to  bar  your  choice;  that  ye  spoke  wi' 
her  yester  morn  owre  your  love  for  Thomas  when  she 
found  ye  spierin'  for  him  frae  your  window." 

"And  what  did  ye  answer  to  a'  this  tale  o'  the  loves 
o'  Janet  and  Thomas?"  she  asked,  with  a  mischiev- 
ous smile;  feeling  the  full  assurance  of  new-born 
love,  reinforced  by  her  lover's  plain  speech,  which 
showed  that  his  query  was,  how  his  mother  could  have 
gotten  such  a  notion. 

"I  couldna  answer  her,"  he  replied.  "She  said 
you  confessed  your  love  for  Thomas.  What  does  she 
mean,  Janet?" 

Then  Janet  told  him  the  simple  truth. 

"I  sat  by  the  window  and  wept,  as  I  watched  ye 
ride  awa',  Jamie,  and  ye  wadna  let  me  gae  wi'  ye. 
As  I  thought  o'  that  and  how  the  bonnie  days  when 
we  were  togither  had  fled,  it  garred  me  weep.  Then 
your  mither  cam'  and  said  she  kenned  the  story  o'  my 
sorrow  and  bid  me  dry  my  tears,  for  she  was  fain  to 
welcome  me  as  her  daughter.  I  thought  she  could 
mean  only  you,  Jamie,  and  as  I  leaned  my  head  on 
the  sill,  she  guessed  my  answer  frae  the  color  o'  my 
face  and  neck.  Then  she  said  'We  shall  hear  frae 
Jamie,  to-night';  so  I  thought  to  hear  the  words  o' 
love  frae  your  ain  lips,  that  night — and,  after  all,  I 
did  hear  it,  Jamie,"  she  said,  smiling  archly. 

Then  he  saw  it  all ;  how  she  suffered  and  possessed 
her  soul  in  patience,  and  she  grew  very  dear  to  him. 

"Why  wadna  ye  let  me  ride  wi'  you,  Jamie;  and 
why  were  ye  so  changed,  sin  I  came  here  this  time?" 
said  Janet,  thinking  to  have  a  solution  of  her  riddles. 

For  a  moment  Jamie  hesitated,  for  the  folly  of  it 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  145 

all ;  then,  thinking  that  this  was  a  time  when  follies 
passed  current,  he  said  bluntly: 

"Because  ye  wadna  kiss  me,  Janet;  and  I  thought 
perchance  ye  were  keepin*  your  lips  for  a  lover." 

"And  so  I  was,  Jamie;  and  here  is  the  lover  and 
here  are  my  lips,"  she  said,  putting  them  up  for  a 
kiss.  "We  will  break  down  that  bar  to  the  course  o' 
true  love,"  she  said  laughing,  as  Jamie  kissed  her 
with  a  zest  that  showed  that  the  prize  had  not  "lost 
its  charm  by  being  caught." 

But  here  they  were  interrupted  by  Lady  Stoney- 
wold,  who  swept  in  upon  them  remorselessly,  deter- 
mined to  nip  this  folly  in  the  bud,  before  it  could 
ripen  into  mischief. 

"James,"  she  said,  in  her  stateliest  manner,  "I  wad 
speak  wi'  Janet,  and  winna  keep  ye  langer  frae  your 
duties.  We  can  bear  each  other  company  for  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon,  whiles  ye  are  mindin'  mony  things 
that  hae  fallen  into  neglect  in  the  past  few  weeks. " 

There  was  no  resisting  this  tone  without  forcing  a 
quarrel  in  Janet's  presence,  which  could  do  no  good 
and  would  only  cause  her  pain  and  distress. 

So  the  old  lady  froze  him  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
Janet  waiting,  in  terror,  the  lingering  torture. 

"Janet,"  said  Mrs.  Muir,  in  icy  tones,  "I  am 
bound  to  set  matters  right  in  behalf  o'  my  twa  sons, 
wha  are  baith  deceived  by  you.  In  the  mornin'  ye 
bid  me  carry  your  plighted  word  to  my  son  Thomas, 
which  I  did,  and  in  the  evening  ye  pledge  your  troth 
to  my  eldest  son.  I  can  tell  ye  that  I  winna  hae  a 
double-faced  daughter,  and  claim  the  right  to  ken 
what  a'  this  miserable  pother  means." 


146  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Janet  waited  a  moment  and  then  answered  calmly: 

"Ye  hae  right,  my  Leddy,  to  ask,  and  I  am  unco 
glad  to  hae  the  chance  to  tell  ye  the  simple  truth.  I 
hae  plighted  my  troth  to  Jamie  and  to  none  ither; 
for  I  didna  gie  ye  my  promise  for  Thomas  in  the 
ntornin'." 

Mrs.  Muir  looked  her  fiercely  in  the  face  while  she 
said,  in  a  tone  of  forced  restraint:  "Wi'  me  a  lie 
winna  serve  ony  purpose,  however  willin'  Jamie  may 
be  to  tak'  them  aff  your  rosy  lips.  It  is  aye  better  for 
women  to  deal  plainly  wi'  ane  anither." 

"I  hae  told  ye  the  truth,  and  it  is  my  purpose  to 
hae  patience  to  tell  it  fully,  for  this  is  due  to  mysel' ; 
but  when  I  hae  told  ye  a',  I  winna  bide,  my  Leddy, 
to  hear  my  word  put  in  question,"  said  Janet  firmly. 

"Ye'll  hear  me  speak  my  mind  so  lang  as  ye  bide 
under  this  roof;  and,  gin  ye  canna  thole  my  speech, 
ye  maun  gae  where  I  amna  free  to  utter  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Muir,  with  growing  heat. 

"I  didna  tell  ye  that  I  loved  Thomas,"  said  Janet, 
looking  the  furious  lady  full  in  the  eye.  "I  told  you 
in  the  morn  what  I  told  Jamie  at  night,  that  I  loved 
only  him."  Mrs.  Muir  grew  hot  and  restless.  "Bide 
wi'  patience,  my  Leddy,"  said  Janet,  in  a  tone  so  quiet 
that  it  controlled  Mrs.  Muir,  "and  I  will  tell  ye  a'. 
I  hae  loved  Jamie  for  years.  When  I  cam'  here,  this 
time,  and  he  wasna  the  same  and  rode  awa'  to  Ken- 
muir  and  wadna  let  me  gae  wi'  him,  I  watched  him 
out  o'  sight,  wi'  tears.  Then  you  cam'  and  said  ye 
kenned  my  heart  and  wad  welcome  me  as  a  daughter; 
I  thought  only  on  Jamie,  and  whan  ye  said  that  we 
should  hear  frae  him  to-night,  I  was  verra  willin'.     I 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  147 

winna  weary  you,  my  Leddy,  hut  I  wad  hae  ye  ken 
that  the  women  o'  our  house  are  as  true  as  the  men 
are  brave.     I  wadna  lie,  even  to  win  Jamie." 

All  this,  spoken  in  a  suppressed,  earnest  tone  and 
with  simple  dignity,  did  not  soothe  Mrs.  Muir.  In 
proportion  as  she  was  forced  to  believe  it,  she  was 
maddened  by  it;  and,  as  it  exalted  Janet,  it  made  her 
the  more  dangerous. 

"This  may  answer  for  you,  as  an  afterthought, 
whan  ye  hae  plunged  us  into  a  bog  frae  which  there 
isna  escape,  for  a',  unscatched.  I  hae  accepted 
Thomas  for  ye  and  ye  hae  had  some  idle  love  clavers 
wi'  James.  Now  I  maun  settle  the  matter  for  the 
guid  o*  a'  three.  James  is  already  provided  for,  and 
he  has  a  pretty  way  wi'  the  lasses,  and  this  is  not  his 
first  affair  o'  the  kind ;  so  we  needna  fash  oursel's 
owre  him.  But  puir  Thomas  hasna  sic  guid  luck 
wi'  the  damsels,  and  therefore  ye  had,  by  a'  means, 
better  tell  James  to  continue  his  suit  wi'  Annie  Els- 
mere,  and  just  let  Thomas  ken  that  he  can  follow  ye 
to  Ross." 

So  the  mother  plead  for  the  rejected  son,  taking  the 
worldly-wise  tone,  assuming  that  a  sensible  girl  would 
not  let  this  romantic  folly  enter  into  the  discussion  of 
a  serious  question. 

"But,  my  Leddy,  I  canna  so  dispose  o'  my  heart, 
which  wouldna  do  my  biddin'  and  is  nae  mair  my  ain  ; 
for  I  hae  gien  it  to  Jamie,"  said  Janet,  as  though  her 
love,  once  given,  was  no  more  a  part  of  herself.  Such 
downright  simplicity  was  terribly  baffling. 

"I  am  afraid  ye  hae  been  readin'  foolish  love  dit- 
ties,   written    to    mislead    silly    lassies.      It  is   weel 


148  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

eneuch  to  turn  a  rhyme  wi'  sic  nonsense,  but  when  a 
lassie  comes  to  choose  her  place  in  life,  she  maun  hae 
respect  to  the  wishes  and  counsels  o'  her  elders,  and 
use  her  ain  wits  in  the  bargain.  I'll  see  to  it  that 
James  returns  ye  the  gift  o'  your  heart,  along  wi'  the 
tress  o'  hair  and  ither  trinkets  which  he,  doubtless, 
has;  and  we'll  settle  this  matter  for  the  guid  o'  all 
concerned,"  said  Mrs.  Muir,  implying  the  acceptance 
of  her  sound  common  sense,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"Jamie  has  naething  but  my  heart,  my  Leddy.  I 
hae  naught  else  to  gie;  but  that  gift  I  canna  recall  if  I 
wad,  and  I  wadna  if  I  could,"  said  Janet,  with  rising 
tears  in  her  voice. 

This  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Muir. 

"Janet,  lass,  I  hae  told  ye  how  the  door  is  open  to 
welcome  ye  as  a  daughter  o'  this  house,  but  ony  ither 
way  the  door  is  shut,"  and  she  stamped  her  foot. 
"Aye,  and  my  Laird  has  barred  the  door;  and  the 
ban  o'  a  mither's  righteous  indignation  is  on  ye,  gin 
ye  turn  awa'  the  heart  o'  my  first  born  son  frae  his 
faither  and  mither,  teachin'  him  to  despise  the  first  o' 
God's  commandments  wi'  a  blessin'  on  it.  If  ye 
haena  the  heart  to  stop  your  uncanny  cantrips,  then 
let  the  fears  o'  conscience  keep  ye  in  the  path  o'  right- 
eousness. In  the  name  o'  the  Laird  o'  Stoneywold  and 
o'  the  Lord  our  God,  I  forbid  ony  thought  o'  mar- 
riage between  you,  a  puir  Highland  lass,  and  the  heir 
o'  this  house." 

"Ye  can  speak  for  the  Laird  o'  Stoneywold,  my 
Leddy,"  said  Janet  haughtily,  "but  as  to  the  Lord 
our  God,  forgie  me  if  I  doubt  that  ye  are  empowered 
to  declare  His  will.     I  owe  you,  my  Leddy,  no  obe- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 49 

dience  in  this  matter,  and  winna  abide  by  your  word 
alane. " 

"Ye'll  abide  by  my  word  or  ye  canna  bide  in  this 
house,"  said  Mrs.  Muir  hotly. 

"I  am  your  guest  only  at  your  pleasure,  my 
Leddy,"  answered  Janet. 

"Aweel,  ye  hae  earned  my  sair  displeasure,  and  ye 
maun  choose  your  ain  time  to  gae  hame, "  and  Mrs. 
Muir  swept  from  the  room. 

Janet's  brief  love  dream  was  ruthlessly  dispelled, 
and  though  loyalty  to  James  had  sustained  her 
through  the  stormy  interview,  when  it  was  over  she 
sank  down  pale  and  panting  and  gave  herself  up  to  a 
passion  of  tears. 

A  father's  and  mother's  keen  displeasure  was  no 
portent  of  blessing  to  their  union,  and  was  in  fact  an 
impassable  barrier.  There  was  that  in  Mrs.  Muir's 
tone  which  betokened  not  a  hasty  ebullition  of  anger, 
but  a  settled  purpose  to  stamp  out  this  foolish  fancy ; 
and  so,  for  them,  this  was  the  end. 

She  therefore  set  herself  to  go  back  to  her  Highland 
home,  take  up  her  simple  duties,  forget  the  thrilling 
happiness  of  the  past  two  days,  and  lay  away  the 
brooch  forever  out  of  sight.  Knowing  that  John 
Gunn  was  going  to  Braemar  on  the  morrow,  and,  per- 
haps, could  take  her  all  the  way,  she  set  about  her 
preparations  for  the  journey,  and,  when  she  was  all 
ready,  felt  a  comfortable  independence  of  Mrs.  Muir's 
wrath;  but  none  the  less  dreaded  the  pain  of  parting 
with  her  lover. 

Was  it  not  better,  however,  to  drain  the  dregs  of 
this  cup  in  one  sweet  bitter  draught  and  then  go  home 


150  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

to  let  her  life  ebb  out  by  inches,  to  die  at  heart  while 
the  body  lived  on. 

She  found  Jamie  pacing  under  the  trees  in  front  of 
the  house,  waiting  for  her,  and  he  sprang  to  greet  her. 

"I  hae  waited  for  yea  sair  lang  while,"  he  said 
lightly;  and  then,  as  he  saw  her  pale  face,  "I  am 
afraid  ye  hae  spent  the  time  to  poor  purpose,  gin  it 
has  made  ye  look  sae  wan  a  maiden,  wha  has  lost  her 
lover." 

For  Janet's  full  heart  there  was  no  delay  possible; 
"I  haena  lost  my  lover,  Jamie;  but  he  is  taen  frae 
my  arms.  Your  mither  has  told  me  that  we  canna 
wed ;  and  your  faither,  too,  she  says,  will  forbid  the 
banns;"  and  she  laid  her  head  on  Jamie's  shoulder 
and  wept  bitterly. 

"Janet,  my  mither  has  taen  some  foolish  notion 
anent  my  marriage  wi'  ane  and  anither  o'  the  damsels, 
wha  are  nae  mair  minded  to  wed  me  than  am  I  to  seek 
them.  And  whan  these  cobwebs  are  brushed  out  o' 
her  brain,  she  will  heed  what  I  hae  to  say  about  my 
ain  wife,"  said  James,  in  a  positive  tone,  as  much  to 
fortify  himself  as  to  reassure  Janet. 

"Na,  na,  Jamie,  I  ken  it  is  mair  than  a  whim  that 
moves  her.  She  will  have  you  marry  anither,  and  will 
have  me  marry  Thomas,  and  she  winna  listen  to  me 
or  to  you,"  said  Janet,  looking  things  squarely  in  the 
face. 

"Aweel  then,  Janet,  she  may  close  her  ears,  till  she 
opens  them  to  hear  the  minister  declare  us  man  and 
wife,  for  that  we  are  to  be;  and  the  mair  dinsome 
clamor  she  mak's  owre  it,  the  quicker  it  shall  come  to 
pass,"  said  James,  in  a  lordly  way. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  15 1 

"That  cannabe,  Jamie,"  said  Janet  wearily.  "Nae 
wife  can  bring  a  blessin'  to  a  man,  wha  bids  him  break 
the  Lord's  command  to  honor  faither  and  mither. " 

"She  has  been  preachin'  to  ye,  has  she?"  said 
James,  now  furious.  "Ye  ken  the  proverb,  'When  an 
auld  wife  preaches  the  deil  gies  out  the  text.'  " 

"Hush,  Jamie,"  said  Janet,  laying  her  hand  on  his 
lips;  which  reproof  he  met  with  a  kiss.  "I  hae  done 
ye  nae  guid,  gin  I  hae  taught  ye  to  speak  thus  o'  your 
ain  mither.  We  must  bide  a  wee  and  not  fash  our- 
sel's.  Whan  ye  hae  waited  for  blessin 's  they  are  aye 
sweeter  than  those  which  come  wi'out  the  seekin' 
and  longin'  for  them." 

"Women  may  wait  and  long,  but  it  is  for  men  to 
strive  and  win,"  said  James  stoutly.  "I  winna  bide 
by  a  woman's  word  in  matters  in  which  they  hae  nae 
concern.  I  will  see  my  faither,  and  gin  he  winna  lis- 
ten to  me,  I'll  turn  my  back  on  this  place  and  win  a 
hame  for  oursel's  in  Ross." 

"That  canna  be,  Jamie;  your  faither  is  old  and 
ailin*  and  your  mither  needs  your  arm  to  lean  on; 
your  oughtlin's  bind  you  here,  and  I  canna  ask  you 
to  forsake  a'  that  God  has  set  you  to  do,  and  the  place 
where  he  has  put  ye,  to  gang  wi'  me.  We  arena 
happy,  Jamie,  when  we  try  to  rob  our  blessin's  frae 
our  duties."  And  the  brave  girl  fought  her  lover  and 
her  own  heart,  at  the  same  time. 

"But,  Janet,  ye  are  my  promised  wife;  and  the 
Guid  Book  bids  a  man  forsake  faither  and  mither  and 
gae  wi'  his  wife,"  said  James,  prepared  to  see  this 
duty  and  to  do  it  with  his  might. 

"Ah!   no,   Jamie,"  she  said,  smiling  sadly,  "I  am 


15 2  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

not  your  wife,  and  the  story  o'  our  love  which  we  hae 
told  ane  anither  canna  be  set  against  the  rights  o* 
faither  and  the  mither  that  bore  ye.  Their  consent 
is  needed  to  sanction  your  promise  to  me." 

Then  the  hot  young  lover  began  to  chafe  under  the 
quiet,  irresistible  temper  of  this  woman,  who  could 
see  one  side  of  this  question  so  clearly  as  to  close  her 
heart  to  his  pleading.  Her  policy  of  waiting  was 
maddening  to  his  strong,  ardent  nature.  He  wanted 
things  settled  on  the  instant,  and,  not  unlike  his  mother, 
settled  to  suit  his  way  of  thinking.  So  he  turned  on 
this  patient  Griselda,  with  the  accusation  that  her  love 
had  not  the  sterling  quality  to  stand  the  test  of  trial, 
and  that  she  lacked  the  nerve  to  meet  his  imperious 
mother. 

"Ye  are  easily  driven  to  forego  your  troth,  Janet, 
when  my  mither  doesna  speak  ye  fair.  I  thought 
there  was  a  higher  power  o'  love  in  ye  than  that." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily,  while  the  tears  rose 
slowly  from  the  depths  of  her  sorrow,  her  cheek  grew 
a  shade  paler,  and  she  seemed  to  tower  in  height,  as 
she  said,  in  a  calm,  searching  tone,  "I  didna  expect  to 
hear  that  frae  your  lips,  Jamie." 

It  pierced  him  to  the  marrow,  and  he  yielded, 
without  another  word;  and,  being  conquered,  sub- 
mitted to  be  led  by  her,  whose  heart  he  saw  was 
greater  than  his,  and  her  counsel,  therefore,  in  such  a 
case  was  wiser. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"there's  a  time   to  gley,  and  a  time   to  look 
straight." 

THE  passing  years  bound  John  Gunn  more  firmly 
to  the  interests  of  the  Stoneywold  estate.  James 
having  grown  up  under  his  eye,  put  implicit  trust  in 
this  preceptor  of  his  youth. 

As  the  old  Laird  failed,  the  management  of  the 
estate  fell  to  John,  and  James,  as  he  grew  older,  took 
a  share  in  it,  and  thus  saw  more  of  John  and  Helen 
than  he  did  of  his  own  family;  and  little  "Nell"  (as 
the  younger  Helen  was  called)  retained  her  childish 
admiration  for  James. 

Outside  the  estate  John  became  a  man  of  conse- 
quence. His  charge  of  improvements  at  Stoneywold 
gave  him  an  experience  that  made  him  an  authority 
on  such  matters,  and  a  deference  to  his  opinion  was 
shown  by  the  gentry,  which  gave  him  a  most  honora- 
ble position. 

The  recollection  of  his  past  life  was  sometimes 
uncomfortable,  and  it  became  almost  a  necessity 
to  slacken  the  ties  that  bound  him  to  his  gypsy 
friends. 

Helen  fully  appreciated  the  honor  of  John's  posi- 
tion, and  saw  that  better  things  were  in  store  for 
"Nell"  than  if  they  had  continued  in  the  tents  of  her 


154  A    HIGHLAND    CHROXICLE. 

forefathers,  and  she  dreaded  to  hear  that  the  band  was 
in  the  neighborhood. 

Gordon  McDonald  was  settled  in  the  neighboring 
village  of  Kintore,  and  with  him  had  come  old  Sandy 
Brown,  the  minister's  man,  who  was  a  weaver  by  trade, 
and,  as  he  plied  the  shuttle,  a  great  philosopher, 
political  reformer,  and  theologian,  as  these  Scottish 
"websters"  are  apt  to  be. 

With  him  John  and  Helen  had  formed  a  firm  friend- 
ship, founded  perhaps  on  the  law  of  contrast,  or  due 
to  some  subtle  tie  which  did  not  appear  on  the  sur- 
face; for  Sandy  was  a  sturdy  adherent  of  the  House 
of  Hanover,  and  John  a  stanch  Jacobite;  Sandy  was  a 
sound,  uncompromising  Calvinist;  John  was  of  a  very 
uncertain  creed,  accepting  general  principles,  but 
resisting  any  definite  form  of  belief — a  very  easy-going 
Christian,  even  if  he  would  submit  to  be  classed  under 
so  broad  a  category  as  this. 

These  two  had  abundant  opportunity  for  "cracks" 
with  one  another,  and  an  unfailing  supply  of  subjects. 

Many  an  evening  the  old  webster  passed  enlighten- 
ing John  on  the  great  doctrines  which  have  been  the 
bone  and  sinew  of  Scottish  theology  for  generations; 
and  when  he  and  John  got  at  it,  the  sparks  flew.  The 
battles  were  hot  but  not  bitter,  for  they  respected  one 
another,  and  they  were  true  friends. 

Sandy  loved  Nell  with  a  great,  rugged  tenderness, 
for  he  was  a  lonely  old  man  bereft  of  wife  and  weanie, 
and  his  heart  went  out  to  this  winsome,  dark  lassie, 
with  her  gentle  ways.  His  grim,  wrinkled  face,  with 
scant  frosty  locks  hanging  elf-like  beside  it,  was  lit 
with   smiles  of  welcome  as  she  bounded  to  meet  him, 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  155 

and  the  gift  of  a  trinket  or  a  bit  that  he  had  woven  for 
her  bodice  always  marked  his  visits. 

On  Sabbath  afternoons  he  trudged  over  to  the  cot- 
tage and  sat  with  Nell  by  the  Don  side,  telling  her 
Bible  stories  with  his  own  quaint  homilies  upon  them. 
After  supper  he  had  worship,  reading  the  chapter  and 
giving  out  the  psalm  in  the  old  Scotch  fashion,  line  by 
line,  and,  with  lusty  voice,  raising  the  tune  with  great 
unction  and  to  his  own  satisfaction  ;  his  hearers  mean- 
while looking  on  in  wonder.  Then,  kneeling  with 
them,  he  poured  forth  such  strong  and  simple  thanks- 
giving, confession,  and  petition,  as  won  their  way  to 
his  hearers'  hearts,  by  their  undoubted  genuineness. 

They  loved  this  old  Covenanter,  with  his  firm  belief, 
his  consistent  character,  and  breadth  of  feeling. 

The  evenings  were  passed  in  having  cracks  with 
John. 

"A  man's  belief  is  sma'  matter  gin  his  life  is  right," 
was  a  favorite  maxim  of  John's.  To  which  Sandy's 
answer  was:  "Aye,  but  there  is  the  root  o'  the  mat- 
ter, John.  We  maun  ken  the  truth  gin  we  wad  bide 
by  it.  Gin  ye  are  settled  on  the  fundamentals,  ye  hae 
a  solid  footin' ;  but,  gin  ye  are  in  a  bog  o'  uncer- 
tainty yoursel'  it  is  nae  kindness  to  drag  your  neebor 
in,  until  ye  are  baith  flounderin'  up  to  your  necks  in 
the  quagmire;"  and  this  was  always  the  wager  for  a 
stout  battle. 

Through  Sandy  they  came  to  know  Gordon  Mc- 
Donald, and  his  visits  were  very  welcome,  for  his 
humor  and  broad  humanity  put  him  as  near  to  the 
cotters  as  he  was  to  the  gentry,  and  he  became  their 
firm  friend. 


156  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

While  such  associations  were  being  formed  by  John 
and  Helen,  Charlie  Graham  was  giving  the  Lochgellie 
band  an  unsavory  reputation.  He  ruled  them  rigor- 
ously, and  in  the  main  justly,  and  none  felt  the  weight 
of  his  cudgel  oftener  than  his  six  wives,  whose  brawls 
were  famous  through  all  the  country. 

The  eldest  and,  by  right  of  priority,  the  head  of 
this  seraglio  was  Snippy  Brown,  whose  real  name, 
Lizzie,  was  supplanted  by  the  110m  de  guerre  which  she 
had  won  in  her  heroic  struggle  with  her  associates  in 
the  home  and  heart  of  Charlie.  In  his  absence  she 
had  assumed  the  place  of  director  of  the  household, 
as  being  the  bell-wether  of  the  flock,  which  was  re- 
sented by  the  others,  and,  in  enforcing  her  claims, 
one  of  those  internal  feuds  was  set  going,  for  which 
the  band  had  of  late  become  famous. 

The  rest  of  the  band  stood  impartially  by  while  old 
Lizzie  undertook,  with  Charlie's  cudgel,  to  set  in 
order  the  rest  of  Charlie's  wives,  after  the  fashion  in 
which  he  himself  kept  house.  Of  these  others  who 
had  thus  banded  themselves  feloniously  to  resist  her 
authority,  some  trusted  to  nature's  weapons,  but  one 
more  savage  than  the  others,  being  armed  with  a  knife, 
cut  the  end  of  old  Lizzie's  nose  clean  off. 

Nothing  daunted  by  the  trifling  loss  nor  by  the  flow 
of  blood,  she  clapped  her  left  hand  on  the  wounded 
member,  and,  shouting  "In  the  middle  o'  the  mean- 
time where  is  my  nose,"  stayed  not  the  cudgel  till  she 
had  routed  her  foes,  being  generous  in  the  share 
which  she  bestowed  on  her  of  the  carving  knife. 

She  showed  herself  with  pride  to  Charlie,  on  his 
return,  as  a  wife  worthy  of  his  name,  and  bore  hence- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  157 

forth  the  sobriquet  of  "Auld  Snippy,"  as  a  badge  of 
honor.  The  honors  of  victory  made  full  amends  for 
the  trifling  loss  to  her  appearance;  for,  after  this,  no 
one  questioned  her  right  to  rule  "when  Charlie  was 
awa'." 

But  more  than  once  John  was  seriously  compro- 
mised by  his  quondam  associates,  who  insisted  on 
their  right  to  appeal  to  him,  because  he  could  enforce 
his  authority  over  the  most  turbulent  spirits,  or 
remand  them  to  jail.  But  while  he  could  thus  control 
them  in  special  crises,  yet  his  moral  influence  was  no 
longer  a  factor  in  the  tribe.  Charlie  Graham  was  far 
more  to  their  liking,  for  he  had  the  true  gypsy  instinct 
of  plunder,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  which  John 
had  always  striven  to  moderate. 

The  band  was  a  terror  through  the  southern  coun- 
ties, where  they  carried  on  a  systematic  robbery  in 
connection  with  the  Border  bands.  The  horses  in 
Scotland  were  driven  to  the  Border,  where  the  Yetholm 
band  received  them  for  sale  in  England,  exchanging 
horses  stolen  in  England  to  be  sold  in  Scotland  by 
the  Lochgellies. 

Charlie  lived  like  a  prince,  paying  his  way  at  the 
inns  with  such  generous  fees  to  the  servants  and  noble 
reckoning  for  the  landlord  that  he  was  under  their 
protection. 

The  traveler's  only  warning,  when  Charlie  was  on 
the  road,  was  that  he  had  better  bide  at  the  inn  to- 
night as  "the  road  was  foul." 

The  country  people  were  so  used  to  his  doings  that 
when  the  canty  traveler,  having  heard  that  "the  road 
was  foul,"  came  to  a  convenient  spot  where  the  woods 


158  A  HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

on  either  side  of  the  road  afforded  a  fine  ambush,  he 
would  put  spurs  to  his  nag  and  gallop  through  the 
hollow,  and,  if  he  was  aware  of  a  stir  in  the  bushes, 
would  laugh  and  shout  back  :  "Ah!  Charlie  boy,  ye 
hae  missed  your  chance  this  time." 

But  this  was  only  among  the  farmer  lads,  whom 
Charlie  had  treated  at  the  fair,  or  done  some  generous 
deed  of  which  they  had  heard,  or  themselves  been  the 
recipients. 

His  hand  was  bold  to  take,  but  free  to  give,  and 
while  prosperity  always  stirred  his  desire  to  relieve  its 
plethora,  so  distress  moved  him  to  alleviate  its  straits. 
So  he  robbed  the  rich  and  gave  to  the  poor.  This 
naturally  created  two  prevalent  types  of  popular  senti- 
ment regarding  this  bold  gypsy  chief;  and  John  often 
warned  him  that  he  was  laying  up  a  store  of  trouble 
for  himself  and  the  band ;  and,  when  Charlie  told  of 
his  friends  at  the  inns  and  by  the  wayside,  John  would 
reply : 

"These  will  do  nought  for  ye,  Charlie,  when  ye  are 
before  the  baillies,  wi'  the  lairds  and  their  factors  to 
bear  witness  against  ye." 

"They  can  witness  nae  evil  against  me,"  said 
Charlie  stoutly.  "I  hae  taen  naething  frae  the  puir 
and  hae  always  spared  them  wha  couldna  afford  to 
lose;  and,  when  Davie  Brown  cam'  to  me  and  told 
me  how  the  ten  pound  which  the  lads  had  taen  frae 
him  at  the  fair  was  needit  to  keep  his  farm,  and  he 
wad  lose  house  and  hame  gin  he  hadna  the  pelf;  then 
I  gave  it  a'  back  again  and  added  to  it  five  pound  that 
I  had  taen  frae  his  laird;  and  surely,  John,  ye  may 
ca'  that  just  and  fair  dealin'." 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  159 

It  was  in  vain  that  John  tried  to  show  him  that  the 
lairds  and  their  factors  had  as  good  right  to  their 
money  as  the  poor  man  to  his  few  pounds. 

Charlie  could  not  or  would  not  see  this.  "It  has 
aye  been  the  law  o'  the  land,"  said  the  bold  gypsy; 
"and  your  ain  forbears  did  the  same  by  their  neebors. 
When  Scotland  was  a  free  land,  ruled  by  her  ain 
kings  and  brave  chieftains,  then  a  man  aye  took  what 
he  needed  and  held  it  by  his  ain  braid  claymore  till 
a  better  man  than  he  could  tak'  it  frae  aff  him.  But 
those  were  the  guid  auld  days." 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  source  of  Charlie's 
information  as  to  ancient  Scottish  usage,  his  ideas  of 
the  rights  of  property  no  longer  held  in  the  land,  and 
were  mightily  unpopular  with  the  class  that  suffered 
from  the  application  of  his  peculiar  theories  of  tneum 
et  tuum. 

The  Laird  of  Glenshiels,  when  visiting  Stoneywold, 
was  loud  in  denunciation  of  the  "thieving  vaga- 
bonds." 

He  had  purchased  a  bullock  of  a  choice  breed  at  a 
bargain  because,  by  some  accident,  the  animal  had 
lost  nearly  half  of  its  tail.  On  this  fat  bullock  Charlie 
had  cast  his  eye,  as  in  good  condition  to  grace  a  revel 
which  he  proposed  to  hold.  So  one  morning  early  he 
hied  him  to  the  pasture,  having  provided  himself  with 
the  tip  of  the  tail  of  another  animal  of  the  same  color, 
and,  neatly  making  fast  the  necessary  completion  to 
the  bullock,  drove  off  his  booty.  Scarce  had  he 
reached  the  ford  of  the  Don  when  the  baillie  o*  the 
Laird  of  Glenshiels  overtook  the  bold  robber  and 
charged  him  with  the  theft. 


. 


160  A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

"Look  at  him  well,"  said  the  cunning  gypsy,  "and 
tell  me,  can  ye  swear  it  is  your  bullock?"  and  he  ap- 
pealed to  a  passing  farmer  and  his  gillie  to  be  judges 
at  this  wayside  assize. 

The  baillie  scanned  the  bullock  with  a  puzzled  air; 
"I  could  swear  to  him  as  our  bullock  by  his  hoofs,  his 
horns,  and  a'  his  points,  werena  his  tail  sae  lang;  but 
our  beastie  had  lost  nigh  one-half  o'  his  tail." 

He  was  dismounting  to  take  a  closer  look  when 
Charlie  whipped  out  his  knife,  cut  off  the  tail  just 
above  the  joint,  thus  drawing  blood,  flung  the  end  of 
the  tail  far  out  into  the  water,  and  facing  the  baillie 
cried  out,  indignantly :  "Noo  he  has  a. short  tail; 
swear  to  him,  man,  and  be  hanged  to  ye." 

Then  he  rode  down  the  bank  and  led  the  bullock 
over  the  ford,  without  deigning  further  parley,  save, 
as  he  went  up  the  farther  bank,  to  call  to  the  discom- 
fited baillie:  "Bid  the  Laird  o'  Glenshiels,  wi'  my 
compliments,  to  send  a  man  after  his  rovin'  cattle 
wha  kens  them  by  some  ither  mark  than  the  length  o' 
their  tails,  which  is  as  kittle  a  way  as  to  ken  a  man 
by  the  length  o'  his  coat,"  and  he  laughed  merrily; 
but,  none  the  less,  he  had  made  two  powerful  ene- 
mies, and  the  Laird  was  sure  that  the  Lochgellie  band 
had  feasted  on  his  red  bullock. 

Charlie  gave  this  same  baillie  cause  to  remember 
him  once  again.  There  was  a  certain  poor  widow, 
Kirstin,  in  whose  humble  cot  Charlie  found  refuge 
when  he  had  need  to  keep  out  of  harm's  way  for  a 
while.  As  he  lay  in  hiding  there,  he  heard  this 
baillie  in  the  kitchen  threatening  that  if  the  rent  were 
not  ready  by  the  next  evening,  when  he  would  pass 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  l6l 

that  way,  he  would  put  her  out  of  the  cot.     When  he 
was  gone,  Kirstin  came  to  Charlie  in  tears. 

"Ye  maun  find  anither  place  to  stop,"  she  said, 
"for  I  am  to  be  sent  awa'  for  lack  o'  the  rent.  Alack, 
it  is  not  blithe  for  you,  and  for  me  it  is  a  sair  bitter 
dool." 

"If  that  be  a'  your  trouble,"  said  Charlie,  "it  is 
easier  mended  than  mony  are,"  and  he  drew  out  his 
purse  and  counted  her  out  the  two  pounds. 

"But  I  canna  pay  ye  back,"  said  Kirstin,  "and 
hae  nae  pledge  to  gie  ye." 

"I  want  nae  pledge  but  your  promise  to  pay  me 
when  ye  can;"  and  Charlie  stayed  the  old  woman's 
tearful  blessing  by  leaving  the  room. 

He  lay  in  hiding  till  the  next  afternoon  and  then 
bid  the  widow  good-by,  and,  secreting  himself  in  a 
copse  by  the  roadside,  awaited  the  return  of  the 
baillie,  with  the  rent  in  his  pouch. 

Along  he  came  at  an  easy  jog,  and  out  sprang 
Charlie;  but  he  did  not  find  his  man  so  easy  to  man- 
age in  a  tussle  as  he  was  to  deal  with  on  the  points  of 
a  bullock,  for  the  baillie  made  a  stout  resistance  and 
shouted  lustily  for  help.  It  was  a  hand  to  hand 
struggle,  for  Charlie  had  not  brought  his  cudgel  and 
would  not  use  the  knife  on  an  unarmed  man,  and  for 
such  a  paltry  sum.  So  the  wrestle  was  a  long  one; 
the  baillie  was  a  powerful  man,  but  at  last  Charlie  had 
the  purse  safe  in  hand.  The  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps  warned  him  that  discretion  had  better  keep 
pace  with  valor,  so  he  beat  a  hasty  retreat  through  the 
woods  to  old  Kirstin's  cot.  He  released  her  from  the 
promise  she  had  given,  telling  her  that  a  friend  of 


1 62  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

hers,  who  did  not  wish  his  name  to  be  known,  had 
met  him  on  the  road  and  paid  the  debt. 

Off  went  the  baillie  and  reported  his  loss  to  the 
Laird,  who  set  out  with  him  at  once  down  the  road  to 
find  trace  of  the  robber. 

A  little  way  this  side  of  the  copse  they  met  a 
farmer,  who  in  passing  had  picked  up  the  bonnet 
which  Charlie  had  lost  in  the  tussle  and  had  put  it  on 
his  head. 

The  baillie,  in  the  uncertain  light  of  the  gloaming, 
promptly  fixed  on  the  farmer  as  the  guilty  party  and 
swore  that  he  knew  him  surely. 

On  the  morrow  it  was  noised  abroad  that  Farmer 
Haddon,  well-known  through  all  the  shire  as  an  hon- 
est man,  come  of  honest  folk,  and  an  elder  of  the 
Kirk,  was  to  be  tried  for  robbing  the  baillie  of  Glen- 
shiels. 

It  made  a  great  stir,  and  old  Kirstin  was  full  of  the 
news  when  Charlie  came  out  of  his  room  next  morn- 
ing, in  a  new  attire  which  completely  changed  his 
aspect. 

"They  do  say,"  said  the  old  widow,  "that  he  is 
owin'  a  sum  to  the  Laird;  and,  perchance,  the  deil 
hae  temptit  him  to  pay  it  after  this  fashion,  and  it 
wasna  in  his  power  to  say  'Gang  ahint  me,  Satan.' 
But  I  am  wae  for  the  gudeman,  for  he  was  aye  kind 
to  me,  and  remembers  the  widow  and  the  faitherless ; 
and  that  is  a  bonnie  token  o'  a  Christian." 

So  off  set  Charlie  to  see  what  would  come  of  this, 
and  whether  he  could  do  anything  for  this  friend  of 
the  friendless. 

He  sat  in  court  and  listened  to  the  trial,  which  was 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  163 

brief,  and  the  drift  of  it  all  against  the  poor  man,  who 
was  too  much  dazed  to  say  anything  in  his  own  de- 
fense, and  could  only  wring  his  hands  and  cry,  "Wae 
is  me,  my  Lairds.  I  come  o'  God-fearin'  folk,  and  I 
hae  robbit  nae  man;  "  but  there  was  nothing  to  be 
gotten  from  him  as  to  how  he  came  by  the  cap,  save 
only:  "I  pickit  the  bonnet  frae  the  dust.  Oh!  wae 
is  me  that  my  gray  hairs  shall  lie  in  a  dishonored 
grave." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Laird  was  there  to  testify 
that  Farmer  Haddon  owed  him  a  sum  of  money,  and 
had  asked  for  indulgence  as  to  time,  and  that  he  might 
pay  it  in  instalments,  one  of  which  was  due  to- 
morrow. 

Then  came  the  baillie's  turn  to  testify.  He  told  of 
his  collection  of  the  rent  from  the  widow,  "Wham," 
he  added,  in  a  significant  tone,  "I  am  gien  to  under- 
stand, your  Lairdship,  is  a  verra  speecial  freend  o* 
this  man ;  and  wham  he  has  helpit,  frae  time  to  time, 
to  pay  her  rent,  the  meanwhile  asking  for  time  on  his 
ain  behalf." 

By  old  John  Haddon's  side,  with  her  hand  in  his, 
sat  his  silver-haired  wife.  They  "had  clomb  the  hill 
thegither, "  and  she  was  ready  to  go  with  him  to  prison 
and  to  death;  for  she  knew  why  he  had  to  ask  for 
time  to  pay  his  debt,  while  he  saved  the  widow's  home 
from  desolation.  Her  tears  fell  softly  as  she  thought 
how  the  very  good  that  he  had  done  was  being  reck- 
oned up  against  him,  in  this  hour  of  trial,  and  she 
prayed  silently,  "Lord,  let  not  this  thing  be." 

But  the  judge  cut  short  the  flow  of  the  baillie's 
eloquence,  and  bid  John   Haddon  stand  up  and  put 


164  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

the  unlucky  bonnet  on  his  head,  and  asked  the  baillie 
to  declare  upon  his  solemn  oath  whether  this  were  the 
man  who  robbed  him,  and  whether-  he  were  sure  that 
he  knew  him,  reminding  him  that  it  was  a  solemn 
thing  to  swear  away,  in  one  brief  sentence,  the  char- 
acter which  a  man  had  won  by  sixty  years  of  a  blame- 
less life,  in  all  of  which  there  had  been  not  a  whisper 
against  him.  There  was  silence  in  the  court  while 
the  baillie  looked  John  fiercely  in  the  eye,  and  he 
returned  the  gaze  with  that  steady  clearness  which 
cannot  be  simulated;  and  the  sweet,  sad  face  of  his 
good  wife  was  bent  down  in  prayer. 

'*Aye,  my  Lairds,"  answered  the  baillie,  "I  can 
swear  to  him.  I  wrastled  lang  wi'  him  and  wad  ken 
him  surely  amang  a  thousand." 

Amid  the  stifled  hush  of  the  crowded  courtroom, 
Charlie  Graham  strode  forward,  snatched  the  bonnet 
from  the  old  man's  head,  and,  putting  it  on,  stepped 
up  close  to  the  baillie  and  said:  "Now  tak'  a  guid 
lang  look  at  me,  sir,  another  honest  man,  and  tell  me, 
on  the  oath  ye  hae  just  sworn,  am  not  I  the  man  wha 
robbit  ye?" 

The  baillie  looked  aghast.  "By  Heaven,  ye  are 
the  verra  man,  and  I " 

"Haud  your  tongue,  leein' carle!"  said  Charlie; 
then,  turning  to  the  judge  :  "Ye  see,  my  Laird,  what 
a  ready  memory  this  gentleman  has;  he  swears  by  the 
bonnet,  whatever  face  is  under  it.  He  has  sworn 
awa'  the  character  o'  twa  honest  men,  and,  gin  your 
Lairdship  will  put  the  bonnet  on  your  ain  head,  he 
wad  be  quick  to  swrear  that  your  Lairdship  had 
robbit  him.     And,  my  Laird,  is  there  ony  evidence 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 65 

at  all  that  the  man  was  robbit,  save  his  ain  leein* 
lips?" 

So  the  chief  witness  being  confounded,  the  accusa- 
tion fell  through. 

John  Haddon  and  his  wife  went,  hand  in  hand, 
from  court  amid  the  congratulations  of  their  neigh- 
bors, and  the  honest  old  man  said  :  "There  was  sic  a 
byke  o'  hornets  in  that  bonnet  that  I  will  aye  leave  sic 
gear  in  the  dust,  for  them  to  lift  wha  haena  gray  hairs 
or  ony  character  to  lose." 

His  gentle  wife  said  naught  to  man,  but  thanked 
God  unceasingly  in  her  heart. 

The  crestfallen  baillie  retired,  amid  the  scowls  of 
his  neighbors,  thinking  to  himself  (why,  he  could  not 
tell)  that  he  had  lost  this  man  just  as  he  lost  that  red 
bullock;  while  Charlie,  waiting  for  neither  thanks  nor 
congratulations,  slipped  quietly  through  the  crowd 
and  left  the  neighborhood  for  a  while. 

But  such  victories  were  bad  for  Charlie,  making 
him  confident  that  he  could  defy  detection;  and  as 
he  grew  bolder  his  depredations  were  on  a  larger 
scale.  He  played  the  gentleman  at  the  inns,  and  the 
revels  at  the  camp  were  on  a  grander  scale,  his  young 
men  being  only  too  eager  to  ape  the  fashion  set  by 
their  leader.  The  heavier  drafts  on  his  exchequer 
necessitated  more  frequent  levies  on  those  who  were 
the  custodians  of  his  funds. 

It  came  to  pass  that  no  man's  pocket  was  secure  at 
a  country  fair,  and  no  road  safe  after  nightfall,  and 
a  man  had  much  ado  to  keep  his  horses  in  his  own 
barn. 

Two  or  three  times  John   Gunn   had  been   sum- 


1 66  A    HIGHLAND  CHRONICLE. 

moned  to  court,  by  members  of  the  band,  to  find 
Charlie  up  for  horse-stealing,  with  his  neck  very  near 
the  noose.  He  bore  himself  with  such  reckless  ease 
and  grace,  that  he  often  won  a  smile  from  the  judges; 
and  the  country  people  regarded  it  as  a  show  not  to 
be  missed,  when  Charlie  was  up  for  trial. 

"Well,  Charlie,"  the  judge  would  say,  looking 
sternly  at  the  handsome  scapegrace.  "You  before 
the  court  so  soon  again!     What  is  it  this  time?" 

"The  auld  thing  again,  my  Laird,  but  nae  proof." 
And  sure  enough  so  it  would  turn  out;  for  though 
the  man  could  swear  his  horse  was  stolen,  yet  his  de- 
scription of  the  thief  in  no  way  tallied  with  the  hand- 
some gentleman  with  small  hands  and  feet,  gallant 
bearing  and  gay  attire,  who  stood  before  the  court. 

Or,  if  the  description  tallied  too  closely,  then  some 
innkeeper  from  a  far  corner  of  the  shire,  or  some 
poor  widow  or  farmer  of  undoubted  respectability,  was 
on  hand  to  swear  that  the  said  Graham  (or  Anderson, 
as  he  was  known  to  him)  had  passed  the  night  in 
question  under  his  roof,  and  had  not  ridden  away  until 
noon  of  the  next  day ;  and  that  innkeeper  or  farmer 
so  testifying  had  never  to  complain  of  the  loss  of  even 
a  bit  of  poultry,  no  matter  how  long  the  Lochgellie 
band  lingered  near  his  place. 

Charlie  often  boasted  that  the  kind  of  hemp  that 
would  hang  him  did  not  grow  on  Scottish  soil;  and 
so  he  laughed  at  John. 

But  the  longest  lease  runs  out;  and  at  last  Charlie 
found  a  net  spread  for  his  feet  whose  meshes  were  too 
strong  for  him. 

Thrice  he  had  escaped  from  the  hands  of  the  con- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  167 

stables,  rather  than  risk  a  tilt  with  the  judges,  who 
were  growing  less  complaisant.  Once  he  slipped  out 
of  the  manacles,  leaving  them  securely  locked,  just 
where  his  hands  and  feet  had  rested  on  the  bed,  and 
letting  himself  down  from  the  window  by  a  small 
cord,  which  he  wore  underneath  his  sash,  quietly 
slipped  off  in  the  night,  while  the  sentry  paced  before 
the  door  of  his  room  at  the  inn.  And  when  they 
came  in  the  morning  to  take  him  on  to  the  tolbooth, 
there  lay  the  manacles  where  his  hands  and  feet  had 
been — and  all  agreed  that  it  must  have  been  a  bogie 
which  they  had  in  chains  the  night  before. 

The  second  time,  he  besought  his  captors  not  to  put 
him  in  the  tolbooth,  when  they  had  him  at  the  very 
door,  but  to  come  and  pass  the  night  with  him  in  an 
upper  room  at  the  inn,  where  they  could  help  him 
drink  up  the  little  money  that  he  had  about  him, 
which  would  do  no  one  any  good  in  the  jail. 

To  this  reasonable  proposal  he  won  their  assent,  and 
they  all  repaired  to  a  second-story  room  at  the  inn, 
and,  with  the  door  locked  and  bolted,  the  four  con- 
stables and  Charlie  prepared  to  spend  the  night.  He 
plied  them  well  with  liquor,  and  as  the  room  grew  hot 
asked  one  of  the  constables  to  raise  a  window,  he 
remaining  quietly  on  the  other  side  of  the  room. 
As  they  drank  far  into  the  night  Charlie  told  them 
stirring  tales  of  his  adventures,  and,  walking  back  and 
forth  in  the  excitement  of  the  narration,  took  a  sud- 
den turn  and  leaped  through  the  window,  fifteen  feet 
to  the  ground,  and  was  off  in  the  darkness  before  the 
fuddled  constables  could  find  the  key,  which  they  had 
hidden,  and,  with  fumbling  fingers,  unlock  the  door. 


1 68  a   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

These  adventures  were  charming  fireside  tales,  but 
they  made  Charlie's  standing  in  court  that  of  a  fugi- 
tive from  justice. 

He  had  lately  received  a  heavy  consignment  of 
English  horses  to  sell,  and  felt  himself  in  honor  bound 
to  return  a  fair  equivalent,  which  compelled  him  to 
make  a  larger  levy  than  usual ;  too  large,  as  it  proved, 
for  the  state  of  the  market. 

A  hue  and  cry  was  raised,  headed  by  Charlie's  old 
acquaintance,  the  baillie  of  Glenshiels,  and  warmly 
seconded  by  the  Laird. 

This  time  they  made  thorough  work  of  it,  and 
Charlie  with  four  other  of  the  men  and  four  of  the 
women  of  the  band  were  taken,  and,  without  more  ado, 
clapped  into  the  tolbooth  at  Middenmuir  and  brought 
to  speedy  trial. 

The   indictment  set  forth  several  charges: 

"First:  That  of  being  Egyptians,  which  is,  sepera- 
tum,  revelant  to  infer  the  pain  of  death  or  banish- 
ment from  Scotland. 

"Second:  Several  acts  of  thieving  and  picking, 
herein  set  forth ;   with  the  witnesses  thereto. 

"Third:  Beating  and  striking  with  an  invasive 
weapon." 

Against  the  particulars  of  this  bill  of  indictment, 
with  the  witnesses  of  the  several  counts,  Charlie's 
old  plea  of  "nae  proof"  did  not  avail.  There  was 
plenty  of  proof  as  to  the  thefts  of  the  horses,  and  the 
heads  of  the  constables  bore  witness  to  the  stout 
resistance  made  to  the  officers  of  the  law;  nor  were 
Charlie's  brave  deeds  any  recommendation  to  the 
mercy  of  the  court. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 69 

They  were  found  guilty,  and,  as  the  finding  of  the 
court  quaintly  put  it,  "Whereas  it  is  both  incon- 
venient and  troublesome  to  hold  them  longer  in  the 
toll-booth,  therefore  it  is  declared  that,  with  all  con- 
venient dispatch,  they  be  taken  to  Aberdeen;  and 
that  Charles  Graham,  John  Kerr,  William  Shaw,  and 
John  Keith  be  hanged  by  the  neck;  and  that  Helen 
Yorkton,  Lucretia  Ogilvie,  Eppie  Lundie,  and  Lizzie 
Brown  be  drowned  in  the  sea ;  and  that  thus  the  good 
repute  of  our  shire  be  holpen,  by  the  deliverance  from 
the  marauding  of  thieves  and  the  cantrips  of  witches." 

Such  was  the  report  brought  to  John  Gunn  by 
Helen,  who  came  from  the  trial  wild  with  horror  at 
the  result. 

John,  though  loath  to  meddle  with  that  which  had 
come  about  in  spite  of  his  remonstrance,  at  once  set 
about  devising  means  to  avert  the  fate  hanging  over 
his  friends. 

He  sent  at  once  to  Braemar  and  ordered  all  the 
women  and  children  out  of  the  shire;  then  he  quar- 
tered the  most  trusty  young  men,  by  twos  and  threes, 
on  friends  in  the  neighborhood,  bringing  two  of  them 
to  his  own  cot,  and  disposing  some  of  them  in  the 
woods;  he  had  altogether  about  fifteen  men  at  his 
command. 

He  had  no  trouble  in  finding  out  the  plans  of  the 
magistrates;  for  one  of  the  constables  did  not  hesitate 
to  speak  freely  with  a  man  of  John  Gunn's  standing  in 
the  community.  John  took  care  that  the  report  of  the 
flight  of  the  band  should  be  well  circulated,  and  thus 
lull  to  rest  all  fears  of  an  attempt  at  rescue. 

To  his  friend  the  constable  John  suggested  that,  as 


17°  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

the  removal  of  the  prisoners  would  make  some  stir,  it 
might  be  as  well  to  do  it  quietly  by  night,  and  avoid 
the  gathering  of  a  crowd  of  the  country  people,  among 
whom  there  would  surely  be  some  friends  of  Charlie. 
"For  Charlie  is  a  weel-spoken  lad,  wi'  a  glib  tongue; 
and,  sin  it  isna  a  question  o'  merely  housin'  the  carle 
out  o'  harm's  way  for  a  while,  but  gleys  to  the 
stretchin'  o'  his  neck,  there  be  some,  wha  arena  gyp- 
sies, wha  wad  help  him  to  escape ;  for  it  is  a  sair  waefu' 
thing  to  see  a  bonnie  carle  strung  up  like  a  dog." 

So  the  night  was  fixed  on  for  the  transfer,  and 
John  helped  in  the  preparations,  as  well  as  counseled 
with  the  constables. 

They  started  just  after  nightfall,  with  the  women  in 
one  cart  ahead,  and  the  men  following  in  another 
cart;  there  were  eight  constables,  all  armed  and  hold- 
ing fast  the  ropes  that  bound  the  gypsies  in  pairs,  with 
manacles  on  their  wrists  and  ankles. 

Little  was  said  as  they  rode  along;  the  constables 
were  uneasy  and  the  gypsies  downcast,  for  they  had 
held  no  intercourse  with  the  outside  world,  and  knew 
nothing  of  any  plan  for  their  relief. 

The  early  hours  of  the  night  were  past  and  the 
moon,  which  had  dimly  lighted  their  way,  was  set;  it 
was  nearing  midnight,  and  Auld  Snippy,  who  had  been 
dozing,  was  roused  by  the  roar  of  the  Don  water,  as 
the  road  wound  nearer  to  the  stream. 

"Did  ye  hear  the  kelpie  ca',  Eppie  Lundie?  We 
will  see  a  sight  this  nicht  which  will  mak'  the  hair  o' 
your  head  creep!" 

"Haud  your  clavers,  ye  auld  witch  wife, or  I'll  send 
the  tip  o'  your  tongue  to  keep  company  wi'  the  end  o' 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  I71 

your  neb!"  said  one  of  the  constables,  who  already 
had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  about  the  roots  of  his 
hair. 

"It  is  ill  to  chide  a  spaewife  whan  ye  are  wi'in  grip 
o'  the  kelpie,"  retorted  Snippy,  apt  to  play  the  part 
which  the  gypsies  knew  was  their  strong  one. 

"Haud  your  eldritch  tongue,  ye  auld  deil's  wife!" 
shouted  the  constable,  beginning  to  hear  strange 
noises  in  the  water,  and  the  tread  of  elfin  feet  in  the 
woods. 

Auld  Snippy,  wild  with  rage,  screamed:  "If  I  be 
a  deil's  wife,  they  say  the  deil  is  aye  guid  to  his  ain ; 
and  ye'll  rue  the  day  that  ye  started  to  tak'  the  deil's 
wife  to  the  toll-booth  o'  Aberdeen!"  Then  she 
shrieked,  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  "Oh!  bonnie  black 
bridegroom,  come  to  me  noo,  and  break  aff  my  bonds, 
and  bind  them  wha  hae  bound  me!  Help!  Help!" 
she  screamed. 

Out  from  the  woods,  as  if  in  answer  to  her  sum- 
mons, there  swarmed  dark  forms  that  seemed  to  rise 
from  the  ground ;  their  name  was  legion,  their  leader 
a  tall,  swart  figure,  with  two  great  horns  and  a  long, 
writhing  tail — so  swore  the  constables,  when  they  told 
the  story  of  the  rescue  of  the  gypsies  at  the  Don  ford. 

The  guard  fled,  leaving  the  women  in  the  hands  of 
these  imps  of  darkness;  but  there  was  a  slight  recov- 
ery of  courage  among  those  in  charge  of  the  men,  and 
these  were  not  rescued  without  a  desperate  struggle, 
in  which  one  constable  was  severely  wounded,  and,  of 
the  attacking  party,  poor  Tarn  Ruthven  was  shot  and 
killed  outright,  which  stopped  the  bow  of  one  of  the 
best  fiddlers  in  all  that  region ;  but  it  was  a  better 


172  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

death  than  twanging  a  hempen  cord,  which  seemed 
sadly  inappropriate  to  one  who  had  played  so  many  a 
merry  air  on  the  catgut.  At  all  events,  so  it  came  to 
pass,  without  Tarn's  choice,  which  would  probably 
have  been  in  favor  of  escaping  both  these  kinds  of 
untimely  taking  off  and  dying  "the  death  of  the 
righteous,"  which  was  a  favorite  quotation  with  poor 
Tarn.  He  had  read  it  on  a  headstone,  in  a  quiet 
country  kirkyard,  and  the  tuneful  sentence  was  the 
only  bit  of  Scripture  that  stuck  by  him.  Why  this 
had  found  lodgment  among  the  vagaries  of  his  queer 
cranium,  he  could  not  have  told,  but  he  was  fond  of 
repeating,  at  odd  moments:  "Let  me  die  the  death  of 
the  righteous  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 

In  the  darkness  and  scuffle,  John  came  off  not 
wholly  unscathed,  for  a  blow  from  a  constable's  cudgel 
fell  on  his  outstretched  forearm  and  broke  it,  about 
half-way  between  the  elbow  and  the  wrist.  But  they 
cheated  the  gallows  of  its  prey  and  the  sea  of  some 
of  its  dead. 

John  started  them  off  at  once  southward,  warning 
them  to  travel  by  night  only,  to  lodge  with  none  but 
Egyptians,  and  to  remain  in  close  hiding  with  their 
friends  in  Yetholm  until  they  went  into  winter  quar- 
ters at  Little  Carron. 

They  were  very  grateful  and  very  docile,  now;  for 
they  had  seen  death  face  to  face,  and  had  even  gone 
so  far  as  to  discuss  what  lay  in  store  for  them  after 
death,  during  which  discussion  Charlie  Graham  faced 
the  future  calmly,  avowing  his  belief  that  it  could  not 
go  hard  with  a  man  who  had  done  all  the  good  which 
he  could  reckon  to  his  credit;  and,  when  this  was 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  173 

called  in  question,  cited  as  examples  of  his  meritorious 
deeds,  his  robbing  of  the  baillie  to  pay  the  rent  of  the 
poor  widow,  and  his  bewildering  the  baillie  so  that  he 
could  not  identify  the  robber,  thus  delivering  John 
Haddon,  who  must  otherwise  have  gone  to  prison; 
and  it  was  generally  agreed  among  them  that  a  man 
who  could  point  to  such  a  shining  record  had  little 
cause  for  fear. 

John  Gunn  made  his  way  home  wearily;  for  his  arm 
was  very  painful  and  made  him  feel  faint  and  spent, 
after  the  hard  battle.  He  reached  his  cottage  just  as 
the  day  broke,  and  found  Helen  watching  for  him, 
and  aghast  at  his  pale,  weary  face,  which  boded  ill 
tidings. 

But  the  tidings  were  not  so  ill  as  feared;  though  it 
was  sad  to  think  of  poor  Tarn,  who,  as  master  of  the 
revels,  had  made  them  all  so  merry,  shot  down  with- 
out warning,  and  buried  in  the  dark  forest  by  night. 

John  solaced  her  with  a  rough  and  ready  philos- 
ophy: "It  mak's  sma'  difference  how  we  die,  Helen. 
The  great  question  is  how  hae  we  lived ;  and  Tarn 
died  as  a  brave  man  may  ever  be  glad  to  die,  in  the 
heat  o'  battle  for  his  friends." 

Then  Helen  saw  how  limp  John's  arm  hung  by  his 
side. 

"Ye  arena  well,  John.  What  ails  ye?"  she  said, 
for  his  face  grew  paler,  now  that  the  excitement  was 
over. 

"It  is  naething  o'  ony  moment,"  said  John.  "Ane 
o'  those  gillies  whacked  me  a  bit  on  the  arm." 

But  as  he  tried  to  raise  it,  he  grew  paler  still ; 
Helen  felt  it  and  found  that  it  was  broken;    and  a 


174  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

look  of  pain  came  on  her  face,  as  if  she  and  not  John 
were  wounded. 

With  fingers  skilled  by  experience,  she  set  herself 
to  bind  up  the  broken  arm,  so  deftly  and  gently  that 
John  was  to  be  congratulated  on  having  such  a  sur- 
geon. Her  touch  was  light  and  firm,  not  flinching 
when  she  saw  his  pain,  knowing  that  the  sooner  it  was 
over  the  better  for  him,  and  for  her  too.  Then  she 
gave  him  some  hot  gruel,  put  him  to  bed  and  hovered 
about  him,  thankful  that  it  was  Tarn  Ruthven's  turn 
and  not  her  John's  to  be  laid  under  the  greenwood 
tree. 

There  was  a  grand  stir  the  next  day  when  the  news 
of  the  escape  of  the  gypsy  felons  was  noised  abroad. 
It  was  a  fine  tale  to  recount,  by  the  cotter's  peat  fire, 
how  the  beldame  "Auld  Snippy  had  called  up  the 
kelpie  and  bogies  and  the  deil  himsel',  and  he  cam' 
wi'  flamin'  eyes,  wi'  twa  great  horns  and  a  lang 
writhin'  tail,  spittin'  tongues  o'  flame  frae  his  mouth;" 
but,  with  the  magistrates  and  gentry  of  the  shire,  the 
cracked  crowns  and  bruises  of  some  of  the  constables 
were  credited  to  more  carnal  weapons  than  are  wielded 
by  the  spirits  of  the  water  and  the  air;  the  flames  had 
not  singed  a  hair  of  their  heads,  but  they  bore  the 
countersign  of  oak  cudgels,  and  an  unquestionably 
earthly  bullet  was  found  in  the  thigh  of  one  of  the 
constables. 

They  were  brought  before  the  magistrates  and  ex- 
amined separately,  having  been  kept  in  the  meanwhile 
in  close  confinement.  A  grand  history  of  the  meth- 
ods of  spiritual  warfare,  with  details  of  "bogle-wark, " 
could  have  been  framed  from  their  testimony  if  that 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  175 

had  been  the  object  of  the  magistrates'  inquiry;  but, 
as  one  shrewd  old  laird,  who  had  a  wide  experience 
upon  the  bench  for  thirty  years,  said,  "There  is  nae 
doot,  my  Lairds,  that  the  deil  was  at  the  bottom  o'  it, 
but  we  maun  ken  what  scum  was  on  the  top  o'  the 
pot;  and,  by  my  life,  I  propose  to  skim  the  froth  till 
I  find  it  oot,  and  then  we  will  het  it  up  for  them." 

It  needed  much  sifting,  with  patience  and  sound 
judgment,  to  know  the  difference  between  the  honest 
truth  and  the  honest  falsehood  which  these  witnesses 
told.  For  some  did  honestly  believe  that  they  had 
fulfilled  the  Scripture:  "We  wrestle  not  against  flesh 
and  blood;  but  against  principalities  and  powers  and 
against  the  rulers  of  the  darkness  of  this  world;"  and 
wondered  that  they  bore  no  "mark  o'  the  deil's  tap." 

After  patient  investigation  the  magistrates  made 
sure  of  three  facts ;  first,  that  one  of  the  rescuers  was 
killed;  second,  that  the  leader,  the  Mephistopheles  of 
the  play,  had  fallen  under  a  blow  from  one  of  the  con- 
stables; third,  that  no  one  knew  of  the  hour  of  their 
departure  from  Middenmuir  except  the  steward  of  the 
Laird  of  Stoneywold. 

The  constable  who  confessed  to  telling  him  was 
severely  reprimanded  and  ordered  to  jail  for  thirty 
days,  after  which  he  was  to  be  paraded  through  the 
town  with  a  placard  on  his  back,  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion, "Trust  him  not;  he  babbleth!"  Then  the  mag- 
istrates ordered  that  John  Gunn  be  brought  before 
them  to  be  examined  touching  the  escape  of  certain 
prisoners. 

When  the  sheriff  came  to  Stoneywold,  on  such  an 
errand,  it  raised  a  mighty  clamor.     The  old   Laird 


176  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

fumed,  and  stormed  at  him  as  a  minion  of  the  House 
of  Hanover.  It  was  never  known  in  the  time  of  Scot- 
land's own  kings  that  such  dishonor  was  done  a  Laird 
on  his  own  estate  as  to  hale  his  chief,  trusty  retainer 
before  the  court  to  answer  an  infamous  charge.  If 
the  good  old  times  were  here,  and  his  retainers  armed, 
he  would  hang  the  sheriff  and  send  his  head  to  the 
hireling  judges.  He  bid  the  young  Laird  make  ready 
and  go  with  John,  if  it  must  needs  be. 

The  sheriff  bore  it  patiently,  for  he  had  known  the 
old  Laird  when  he  was  more  amenable  than  now,  after 
years  of  gout  had  made  his  temper  testy  and  his 
speech  somewhat  crisp. 

But  oh!  what  terror  fell  on  Helen  when  the  young 
Laird  and  the  sheriff  came  down  to  their  cot  with  this 
message.  At  first  she  declared  that  John  was  not  at 
home  and  had  been  gone  near  a  week;  and,  when  the 
sheriff  said  that  he  had  seen  him  within  that  time,  she 
protested  that  she  had  said  this  because  John  was  sick 
in  bed  and  could  not  see  anyone;  and  she  stood  like 
a  tigress  barring  the  way,  and  ready  to  tear  the  eyes 
out  of  anyone  who  offered  to  lay  hands  on  her  John. 

The  young  Laird  urged  Helen  to  let  them  see  John, 
merely  to  speak  with  him,  pledging  his  honor  that  no 
trick  should  be  played  upon  her.  Finally  she  com- 
promised by  letting  the  Laird  into  John's  room;  but 
barred  the  way  against  the  sheriff.  Muir  found  John 
lying  on  the  bed,  a  trifle  pale  and  with  his  arm  bound 
up. 

The  Laird's  face  grew  grave  at  sight  of  this. 
"Why,  John,"  he  said,  "what  ails  ye,  man?  Helen 
says  ye  arena  quite  well?" 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  177 

"Na,  my  Laird,  I  amna  rightly  mysel',"  replied 
John. 

"But  what  ails  ye?"  persisted  James. 

"I  hae  met  \vi'  an  accident.  I  fell  frae  a  wagon," 
said  John,  truthfully  enough ;  for  he  had  gone  down 
like  a  shot,  under  the  sudden  blow. 

"But  this  isna  a  canny  matter,  John.  The  magis- 
rates  will  inquire  o'  ye  regardin'  the  fracas  in  which 
the  gypsy  lads  were  set  free;  and  ye  will  gae  before 
them  a  wounded  man,  and  they  will  hae  a  right  to 
ken  how  ye  cam*  by  your  fa'." 

"I  just  let  go  whan  I  should  hae  held  on,  and  so  I 
fell  to  the  ground;   that  is  a',"  answered  John. 

"That  will  do  for  you  and  me,  John,  wha  ken  ane 
anither;  but  it  winna  satisfy  the  magistrates,"  said 
Muir,  sorely  troubled  and  perplexed. 

Leaving  John,  he  went  out  to  the  sheriff,  and  bid 
him  return  to  Middenmuir  and  tell  the  magistrates 
that  the  Laird  of  Stoneywold  sends  to  their  Worships 
his  respectful  greeting,  and  that  his  steward,  John 
Gunn,  is  sick  and  not  fit  for  any  journey  nor  to 
undergo  an  examination ;  and  that  he  will  become 
surety  for  the  bringing  of  John  Gunn  before  their 
Worships,  at  any  time  they  may  appoint;  and,  in  the 
meantime,  he  promised  the  sheriff  to  await  the  answer 
at  John's  cottage. 

To  this  the  sheriff  agreed  and  took  his  departure, 
to  Helen's  great  relief,  and  the  Laird  paced  up  and 
down  before  the  cottage,  sorely  puzzled  what  to  make 
of  it.  Hitherto  John's  dealings  with  the  gypsies  had 
been,  by  tacit  consent,  a  kind  of  restraining  supervi- 
sion used  by  him  to  adjust  grievous  wrongs ;  but  now 


178  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

it  had  taken  a  different  complexion  when  he  was 
involved  with  those  who  had  undertaken  to  set  aside 
the  decision  of  the  bench  of  magistrates  vi  et  armis. 

This  was  compromising  to  himself  also,  for  he  was 
known  as  an  active  Jacobite,  which  was  perhaps 
enough  for  one  pair  of  shoulders  to  carry,  without 
having  to  share  the  odium  of  countenancing  and  pro- 
tecting Egyptians. 

The  sheriff  returned,  before  long,  with  the  message 
that  it  was  the  pleasure  of  the  magistrates  that  the 
Laird  of  Stoneywold  should  secure  the  appearance  of 
John  Gunn  before  their  Worships,  an  hour  before 
noon  on  Monday;  this  being  Saturday,  there  were 
nearly  two  days  in  which  to  devise  some  way  out  of 
the  awkward  position;  for  the  Laird  had  no  more 
notion  of  letting  the  law  deprive  him  of  his  steward 
than  John  had  of  letting  his  companions  go  to  the 
gallows ;  but  the  Laird  did  not  propose  so  summary  a 
process  as  John  had  chosen. 

Muir  was  without  counselors,  for  his  father  would 
do  nothing  but  rave  at  the  tyranny  of  the  Saxon 
courts,  and  his  mother  was  out  of  sympathy  with  him, 
and  suspected  John  and  Helen  of  abetting  James  in 
his  love  affair. 

Helen  counseled  resistance  or  flight,  and  could  not 
understand  why  the  Laird  felt  any  obligation  to 
redeem  his  word  and  bring  John  to  court.  In  her 
gypsy  creed,  honor  ceased  to  bind  as  between  a  man 
and  an  officer  of  the  law. 

James  doubted  how  much  it  was  wise  for  him  to 
know  before  he  went  to  court  with  John ;  and  when 
he  had  come  to  his  wit's  end,  determined  to  go  in  and 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  179 

let  John  say  what  he  chose.  He  went  in  and  told 
John  what  he  had  done;  Helen  sitting  by,  and  thank- 
ing him  with  her  eyes.  When  he  had  ended,  John, 
frank  and  open  as  he  always  was  with  those  whom  he 
trusted,  and  loyally  feeling  that  his  Laird  and  chief 
should  know  the  whole  truth,  made  a  clean  breast 
of  it. 

He  told  him  how  he  had  come  among  the  gypsies, 
and,  turning  to  Helen,  said:  "I  wad  owe  them  a' 
that  I  could  gie,  were  it  life  itsel',  for  the  bonnie  wife 
that  I  won  frae  the  tribe;"  and  Helen's  eyes  glowed, 
for  to  love  and  be  loved  was  the  whole  of  this  wom- 
an's life.  "And,  my  Laird,"  said  John,  raising  him- 
self  on  his  elbow,  "I  may  be  far  wrang;  but,  that  a 
man  should  be  hangit  for  stealin'  a  beast  isna  right  to 
my  way  o'  thinkin' ;  and,  as  lang  as  I  hae  voice  or 
hand  to  raise  agen  it,  I  winna  thole  to  see  the  thing 
done.  And,  for  a'  their  clavers  anent  witches,  I  ken 
there  is  nae  sic  a  thing,  save  where  the  silly  women, 
or  far  mair  silly  men,  are  ready  to  think  them  witches 
wha  hae  nae  mair  power  to  wark  their  ain  will  than 
hae  you  or  I,  my  Laird.  I  led  the  band  that  set  the 
puir  lads  and  their  women  free.  I  am  frank  to  say  it 
to  ye,  my  Laird,  and  to  the  court,  too,  if  need  be.  It 
was  a  fair  fight;  they  were  armed  and  sae  were  we; 
they  were  free  to  shoot,  and  they  did  it,  and  killed 
their  man  and  brak'  my  arm  for  me,  and  they  went 
scot  free  wi'  a  few  bruises;  and,  to  my  thinkin',  they 
maun  be  weel  content  and  let  the  matter  bide  as  it  is." 

This  was  well  plead,  according  to  John's  code,  but 
would  hardly  answer  to  bring  the  magistrates  to 
reason. 


180  a    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

The  Laird  therefore  bade  John  keep  a  close  mouth 
and  leave  his  case  to  him,  and,  as  the  Sabbath  would 
intervene,  he  could  counsel  with  Gordon  McDonald, 
and  John  would  have  a  chance  for  an  unusual 
"crack"  with  old  Sandy  Brown. 

The  calm  of  the  day  of  rest  came  on  the  heels  of 
this  turbulent  week,  and  along  with  it  came  old 
Sandy,  as  sure  as  the  afternoon  sun,  and  as  warm. 
John  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  lay  the  whole 
matter  before  the  old  Covenanter,  whom  he  relied  on 
with  a  perfect  trust  that  cast  out  fear;  and  John  knew 
that  he  would  get  an  honest,  thorough-going  opinion 
from  his  friend,  and  withal  one  rooted  in  kindness. 

When  the  evening  meal  was  ended  and  the  Sabbath 
devotions  concluded  to  Sandy's  satisfaction,  and  little 
Nell  was  tucked  away  in  bed,  John  told  his  friend  of 
all  that  he  owed  to  the  gypsies,  and  how  he  had  tried 
to  pay  the  debt  by  delivering  those  condemned,  for 
a  slight  offense,  to  an  undue  penalty. 

"It  isna  a  sma'  offense  to  break  the  law  o'  God, 
which  says,  'Thou  shalt  not  steal,'  "  said  old  Sandy. 

"Aye,  but  doesna  God's  law,  as  ye  ca'  it,  say  also, 
'Thou  shalt  not  kill'?"  replied  John. 

"Aye,"  answered  Sandy,  "but  that  doesna  forbid 
the  magistrate,  wha  beareth  the  sword  frae  God,  tak- 
in'  a  man's  life  at  the  biddin'  o'  God." 

"But  has  God  bid  the  magistrate  tak'  the  life  o'  a 
man  for  stealin'  a  horse,  or  a  woman  because  she  was 
born  an  Egyptian?"  said  John. 

This  brought  Sandy  to  matters  beyond  his  reach. 
He  knew  that  a  man  must  follow  his  Bible  as  the  word 
of  God;  that  it  enjoined  obedience  to  the  powers  that 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  I»I 

be  as  ordained  of  God ;  but  when  the  edicts  of  the 
powers  did  not  find  their  sanction  in  the  Bible,  then 
what  was  to  be  done  he  was  at  a  loss  to  say.  His 
usual  refuge  was,  "Just  spier  o'  the  minister  anent 
that  and  he  will  set  ye  right." 

When  John  insisted  on  his  giving  him  some  kind  of 
counsel,  he  refused:  "I  canna  advise  ye,  man.  May 
the  Lord  guide  ye.  I  ken  that  open  confession  is 
guid  for  the  speerit,  and,  gin  ye  hae  done  wrang  to 
ony  man,  that  ye  ask  his  forgiveness;  and  what  is 
guid  as  between  man  and  man,  maun  also  profit 
between  a  man  and  those  set  to  rule  owre  him.  But 
I  hae  sma'  experience  in  sic  matters,  and  wadna  bring 
ye  to  harm.  Ye  hae  meddled  in  matters  too  lairge 
for  ye  and  are  in  a  sore  strait,  and  hae  need  o'  better 
guidance  than  an  untutored  webster  can  gie  ye.  I 
will  mak'  it  a  subject  o'  prayer,  the  nicht,  and  hae 
nae  doot  this  will  serve  ye  better  than  my  puir  coun- 
sel." 

Of  this  John  had  his  doubts,  but  Helen  was  greatly 
comforted,  feeling  that  Sandy's  prayers  were  very 
potent  in  influencing  the  fate  of  his  friends. 

The  old  weaver's  matter-of-fact  way  of  speaking  of 
the  power  of  prayer  had  so  impressed  Helen  that, 
from  her  point  of  view,  she  shared  his  living  faith; 
but  John  wanted  counsel  that  would  avail  before  the 
powers  seen  and  temporal,  rather  than  appeals  to  the 
unseen  and  eternal. 

While  John  and  Sandy  were  having  their  "crack" 
in  the  cottage,  the  young  Laird  and  Gordon  McDon- 
ald were  closeted  together  at  the  Hall.  The  minister 
entered  heartily  into  the  matter,  partly  from  his  inter- 


1 82  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

est  in  the  gypsies  as  a  class,  and  more  from  a  personal 
interest  in  John's  history;  for  he  himself  was  a  High- 
land man,  born  and  bred  among  the  hills  and  heather, 
and  could  appreciate,  if  he  could  not  approve  of, 
John's  conduct. 

"We  must  judge  the  man,"  he  said,  "not  by  the 
rules  we  lay  down  for  ourselves.  His  resistance  to 
the  constables  doesna  mean  what  it  would  had  you  and 
I  been  at  it.  To  him  they  do  not  represent  law  and 
order,  but  a  force  organized  to  maintain  an  authority. 
He  defended  them  from  a  sentence  which  he  regarded 
as  gross  injustice.  There  lingers  among  our  Highland 
people  a  trace  of  this  spirit  which  inclines  to  appeal  to 
this  same  court  of  last  resort.  I  believe  John  Gunn 
to  be  a  good  and  true  man,  and  you  have  no  cause  to 
lose  your  trust  in  him.  But  the  man  should  be  made 
to  see  that  this  law  of  the  sword  is  lawlessness." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  ye  say  so,  Mr.  McDonald," 
said  James,  relieved  that  the  minister  took  this  view 
of  his  trusty  steward.  "But  my  chief  concern  now  is 
how  to  obtain  such  a  generous  view  of  the  matter  by 
the  magistrates." 

"Aye,  that  is  more  troublesome,  but  we  will  look 
into  the  question.     Has  John  anything  to  suggest?" 

"He  has  no  other  idea,"  said  James,  "than,  that 
having  done  his  duty  by  those  who  needed  his  help, 
no  harm  can  befall  him  if  strict  justice  be  done.  He 
quarrels  with  the  penalty  for  horse-stealing,  and  feels 
that  he  did  a  righteous  thing  to  save  the  lives  of  men 
who  were  to  be  hung  for  this,  and  of  women  whose 
chief  crime  was  being  Egyptians." 

"Aweel,"  answered  the  minister  warmly,  "I  canna 


A  HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  183 

say  John  is  far  wrang.  I  wadna  deem  it  prudent  to 
say  it  to  him;  but,  do  ye  ken,  man,  I  think  he  was 
sair  richt  in  his  principles,  though  he  went  aboot 
practicin'  them  after  a  rough  fashion;  but,  upon  my 
word,  had  I  been  there,  I  fear  I  wad  hae  taen  a  hand 
to  let  the  puir  feckless  creatures  loose.  But  we  winna 
advance  these  opinions,  as  they  may  not  be  for  the 
public  weal ;  but  we  hae  a  richt  to  our  ideas  on  sic 
matters." 

"But  on  what  can  we  rest  our  defense  of  John 
before  the  magistrates?"  queried  Muir,  reverting  to 
the  pressing  question. 

Then  the  minister,  after  conning  over  it  for  a  while, 
proposed  this  plan:  they  should  all  go  together  to 
court,  he  and  the  Laird  and  John  Gunn  ;  against  the 
vague  testimony,  which  would  probably  be  conflicting 
also,  and  which  did  not  identify  John  as  one  of  the 
assailants,  they  should  set  John's  high  character  and 
standing  for  years  in  the  community. 

If  his  association  with  the  gypsies  was  advanced 
against  him,  they  would  offset  this  by  the  fact  that  his 
wife  was  a  gypsy,  and  that  his  influence  had  always 
been  restraining,  often  causing  restitution  to  be  made, 
as  many  would  gladly  testify. 

As  to  his  being  the  sole  recipient  of  the  news  of  the 
time  of  their  departure,  the  same  man  had  told  Mr. 
McDonald,  and  very  likely  others  also.  There  was 
no  evidence  that  the  rescuers  were  gypsies;  they 
might  have  been  Charlie's  friends  the  innkeepers  or 
farmer  lads;  for,  as  far  as  common  rumor  went,  the 
band  had  left  the  shire  some  days  before. 

For   the   rest,    as   there   was   naught   proven,    nor 


1 84  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

indeed  definitely  charged  against  him,  let  the  Laird 
and  the  minister  give  bond  that  he  would  keep  the 
peace  and  appear,  at  any  time,  upon  summons  of  the 
court,  to  answer  any  charge  laid  against  him.  This 
seemed  plain  enough;  but  the  magistrates  might  ask 
awkward  questions ;  but  for  an  answer  to  these  they 
must  trust  to  the  spur  of  the  moment. 

The  next  morning  James  rode  down  to  fetch  John 
to  court,  and  along  with  him  went  the  minister,  his 
broad  face  blithe  and  strong,  putting  heart  and  cour- 
age into  the  party.  James  dreaded  to  see  John  with 
his  bandaged  arm,  but,  when  he  came  out,  there  was 
no  sign  of  a  bandage,  his  arm  hanging  down  straight 
and  fair  within  his  sleeve;  and  Helen  laughed  when 
she  saw  the  Laird's  look  of  surprise. 

This  was  her  contribution  to  the  cause;  she  had 
spent  the  night  fashioning  splints  so  thin  and  elastic 
that  they  scarcely  thickened  the  arm,  and  wrapped 
them  securely  and  evenly  with  strips  of  soft  silk;  and 
when  she  slipped  on  his  coat,  apart  from  a  somewhat 
awkward  carriage  of  the  arm,  there  was  no  sign  of 
anything  amiss.  Her  instinct  and  skill  lay  in  the 
direction  of  secrecy,  like  hunted  animals  who  hide 
their  tracks,  or  cover  their  trail  by  taking  to  the  burn. 

John  was  mightily  heartened  when  he  saw  the  min- 
ister, and  thanked  Mr.  McDonald  with  undoubted 
sincerity. 

"Ye  hae  been  at  a  verra  bad  business,  John,  my 
man,"  said  McDonald.  "It  is  the  duty  o'  a  guid 
citizen  to  abide  by  the  laws  and  keep  his  hand  frae 
rebellion  agen  his  rulers.  We  are  here  to  do  what 
we  can  for  ye,  but  ye  are  in  a  bad  fix,  my  friend,  and 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  185 

I  trust  this  will  prove  a  lesson  to  ye  not  to  meddle  wi' 
the  action  o'  the  magistrates." 

"I  ken  a'  that  is  true,  Mr.  McDonald,"  said  John 
quietly;  "but  I  couldna  see  the  lads  hang  for  the 
shift  in'  o*  a  few  ponies,  and  the  women  drowned  for 
nae  ither  crime  than  my  ain  wife  is  guilty  of." 

"Na,  na,  John,  I  ken  that;  but  the  lads  arena 
right  to  meddle  wi'  ither  folks'  gear;  and  the  women 
are  far  different  frae  your  bonnie  Helen,"  replied  the 
minister;  and  John  thanked  him  for  seeing  his  wife 
as  he  saw  her,  a  true,  sweet  woman. 

When  they  came  to  the  courtroom  it  was  crowded, 
and  among  the  people,  high  and  low,  was  a  host  of 
John's  friends,  ready  to  speak  for  him,  if  need  be. 
He  passed  through  the  crowd  with  a  firm  step  and 
confronted  the  judges,  with  the  Laird  of  Stoneywold 
and  Rev.  Gordon  McDonald  by  his  side,  and,  in  the 
rear  of  the  room,  the  dark  eyes  of  Helen  looking 
fiercely  out  from  the  sea  of  faces. 

John  stood  tall  and  erect  before  his  judges,  and  his 
eye  met  theirs  with  the  steadiness  of  one  conscious  of 
right,  and  ready  to  answer  to  any  for  his  conduct. 

"Ye  are  summoned,  John  Gunn,"  said  the  old 
judge,  frowning  over  his  spectacles,  "to  give  answer 
anent  the  assault  on  His  Majesty's  constables  and  the 
rescue  of  certain  prisoners  condemned  to  death;"  the 
judge  paused,  and  John  stood  waiting. 

"What  have  ye  to  say,  John  Gunn?"  said  the  judge 
sternly. 

"What  is  the  chairge  agen  me,  my  Laird?"  said 
John  quietly. 

"The  chairge — the  chairge?"  stammered  the  judge. 


1 86  a   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"Aye,  my  Laird,"  said  the  imperturbable  John. 

"Ye  have  heard  the  chairge,  that  o'  freein'  prison- 
ers frae  the  hands  o'  the  constables,"  thundered  the 
judge. 

"I  didna  hear  the  chairge,  my  Laird,"  said  John. 
"But  whachairges  me  wi'  that,  my  Laird,  and  is  there 
ony  proof?" 

"Ye  are  well  known  to  be  the  only  man  aware  of 
the  day  and  hour  when  the  prisoners  were  to  leave  the 
toll-booth  for  Aberdeen  ;  and  that  is  both  chairge  and 
proof  enough  to  require  you  to  clear  your  skirts  of 
this  matter,  if  ye  can,"  replied  the  judge,  beginning 
to  see  his  way  to  assail  this  imperturbable  man. 

Then  the  Laird  of  Stoneywold  spoke : 

"My  Lord,  this  Worshipful  Court  has  fallen  on  some 
suspicion  which  is  not  well  founded.  My  friend,  the 
Rev.  Gordon  McDonald,  is  open  to  the  same  accusa- 
tion, on  the  same  grounds,  as  this  which  is  brought 
against  my  valued  steward  and  trusty  friend  of  my 
father  and  myself;  for  he  had  these  same  facts  some 
twelve  hours  sooner  than  my  steward,  and  from  the 
same  man.  If  his  memory  did  not  serve  him  to  let 
you  know  of  his  telling  it  to  Mr.  McDonald,  it  may 
have  slipped  his  mind  how  many  others  beside  shared 
the  secret.  It  would  not  become  this  honorable  court 
to  let  the  babbling  of  so  loose  a  tongue  cast  a  slur 
upon  the  character  of  a  man  who  has  lived  so  long 
and  run  such  an  honorable  career  in  this  community. 
And  now  to  show  your  Worships  how  earnestly  I  feel 
it  to  be  my  duty  to  protect  one  who  has  done  me  and 
my  father  such  faithful  and  honorable  service,  and  also 
to  testify  my  desire  to  honor  the  law  as  administered 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 87 

by  your  Worships,  I  am  ready  to  give  bonds  for  John 
Gunn  that  he  shall  keep  the  peace  of  the  realm,  and 
shall  appear  before  this  Worshipful  Court  at  any  time 
to  answer  any  charge  that  may  be  brought  against 
him ;  and  to  this  bond  my  friend,  the  Rev.  Gordon 
McDonald  will  set  his  hand  and  seal,  if  it  be  so 
required." 

A  murmur  of  applause  ran  through  the  room,  and, 
if  Stoneywold  could  have  seen  Helen's  eyes  resting  on 
him  as  he  spoke  thus  of  her  John,  he  would  have 
guessed,  what  in  after  years  he  knew  right  well,  that 
he  had  won  her  unchangeable  devotion. 

The  keen  old  judge  saw  the  situation  at  a  glance; 
the  one  strong  point  rested  on  the  testimony  of  an  idle 
babbler,  and  even  if  the  witness  were  trustworthy  it 
would  go  but  a  short  way  toward  connecting  John 
with  the  affair;  and  so,  seeing  the  drift  of  public 
opinion,  and  deeming  it  best  to  recognize  this  quickly 
and  gracefully,  he  said:  "John  Gunn,  ye  are  honor- 
ably discharged ;  and  this  court  congratulates  ye  on 
having  won  such  friends  to  stand  by  ye  in  an  hour  of 
need." 

This  was  greeted  with  loud  applause,  and  after  a 
feast  at  the  inn  where  the  Laird  treated  John  and  his 
friends  to  some  stout-brewed  ale,  they  rode  off  home- 
ward amid  the  cheers  of  the  crowd. 

On  their  way  home  John  thanked  the  Laird,  in  a 
homely,  hearty  way. 

"Ye  hae  done  me  and  Helen  a  service,  my  Laird, 
that  we  canna  forget;  and  sae  lang  as  there  rins  a 
drap  o'  blude  in  our  veins  it  is  yours." 

Muir  was  touched  by  the  tone  of  deep  affection. 


1 88  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"I  hae  done  mysel'  a  service,  John;  for  ye  are  well 
worth  savin*.  But  ye  hae  had  a  narrow  escape,  and 
ye  maun  think  on  Helen  and  the  lassie,  e'er  ye  mix 
yoursel'  in  ony  sic  matter  again.  Bide  fast  by  the 
counsel  o'  those  wha  ken  and  esteem  ye,  and  cut  loose 
frae  the  Lochgellie  band.  Ye  hae  paid  your  debt  to 
them;  and  it  cam'  near  costin'  ye  mair  than  it  ever 
cost  them  to  serve  you." 

John  made  up  his  mind  to  profit  by  this  counsel. 
The  Lochgellies  were  back  from  the  south  before  long, 
and  Charlie  Graham's  escape  made  him  bolder  than 
ever,  and  though  John  had  them  by  the  nape  of  the 
neck,  yet  their  hold  on  him  was  very  uncomfortable, 
and  they  were  exacting,  and  a  constant  menace  to  his 
peace,  who  had  more  at  stake  than  they;  their  quasi 
recognition  of  him  in  public  places  haunted  him  like 
a  ghost  that  he  was  fain  to  lay  at  rest. 

One  day  the  chance  came  for  him  to  get  rid  of  this 
rubbish  of  the  past.  Young  Ruthven  of  Ballingarry 
was  dining  with  Stoneywold  on  his  way  from  the  south, 
where  he  had  been  recruiting  men  for  his  Dutch 
Brigade.  He  asked  the  Laird  whether  this  shire 
could  not  furnish  him  the  needed  contingent. 

"There  are  men  enow  here  wha  eke  out  but  a  scant 
livin',"  said  Muir,  "but  whether  they  will  care  to  tak' 
service  in  foreign  ditches,  I  amna  so  sure." 

"How  can  I  get  at  some  o'  them  and  gie  them  the 
choice?"  said  the  captain. 

"Aweel,"  answered  Muir,  "we  will  call  John 
Gunn;  gin  he  canna  help  ye,  the  deil  kens  wha  can." 

When  John  heard  what  was  wanted,  he  saw,  in  this, 
his  opportunity;  and  his  eyes  twinkled  as  he  thought 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  1 89 

of  Charlie  and  his  lads  at  sea,  and  among  the  Dutch- 
men. 

"And  when  will  ye  be  ready  for  them,  Captain 
Ruthven?"  he  said. 

"Straight  away,"  replied  Ruthven. 

"Aweel,  Ballingarry,"  said  John,  "do  ye  tak'  your 
road  at  aince  for  Aberdeen,  and  tak'  oot  a  passage 
for  the  twal  ye  hae  ca'd  for,  and  ten  mair  to  boot, 
and  send  word  whan  your  ship  sails;  and,  gin  ye  say 
naught  o'  it  to  ony,  your  braw  soldiers  will  be  ready 
for  ye,  at  the  day  and  hour." 

On  the  appointed  day  John  appeared  with  twenty- 
two  swarthy  men ;  but  when  they  found  what  lay 
between  them  and  the  promised  gold,  they  had  no 
stomach  for  the  adventure.  By  a  judicious  combina- 
tion of  threats  and  promises,  and  a  liberal  crossing  of 
their  palms  with  silver,  and  the  assurance  that  their 
families  should  follow  them,  John  managed  to  get 
them  on  board,  and  so  rid  himself  of  the  shadows  of 
his  past  life. 

It  was  a  strong  testimony  to  the  honor  that  prevails 
among  these  ruder  types  of  men,  and  the  power  of 
their  unwritten  code,  that  these  men  went,  never 
doubting  that  John  would  be  as  good  as  his  word,  and, 
in  due  time,  would  send  them  their  women  and  chil- 
dren. And  apart  from  other  motives  which  kept  the 
obligation  in  John's  heart,  his  word  was  a  bond  which 
he  would  face  death  rather  than  forfeit. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"ye  live  on  love,  as  laverocks   do  on  leeks." 

THE  result  of  James's  wooing  had  been  to  make 
them  all  feel  that  Janet  had  better  go  back  to 
Ross,  and  as  her  longer  stay  did  not  conduce  to  her 
own  peace  of  mind,  nor  to  the  comfort  of  any  of  the 
family  at  Stoneywold,  she  started  on  the  next  day 
for  home,  accompanied  by  John  Gunn  and  the  two 
Helens,  whose  hearts  were  all  alive  to  the  woes  of 
James  and  Janet. 

The  parting  with  Mrs.  Muir  and  Margaret  was  such 
as  made  Janet  feel  that  this  was  her  last  visit  to  Castle- 
wood  Hall.  There  was  no  sign  of  relenting,  no 
kindly  word  or  look,  but  only  formal  messages  of 
courtesy  to  her  mother  and  a  courtly  leave-taking  to 
herself. 

James,  without  taking  counsel  of  any,  saddled  his 
horse  and  rode  away  with  Janet,  to  his  mother's  dis- 
may; for  perhaps  he  had  made  his  choice  between 
house  and  lands  and  his  lady  love,  and  had  forsaken 
all  to  follow  her. 

This  would  have  sadly  disconcerted  Mrs.  Muir, 
for,  after  all  said  and  done,  James,  with  his  masterful 
ways,  was  her  favorite  son. 

John  and  Helen  gave  the  lovers  ample  opportunity 
to  take  sweet  counsel  together,  and  James  rode  all  day 

190 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  191 

long  beside  her,  using  the  time  to  let  Janet  see  the 
depth  and  fervor  of  his  manly  love;  and  this  was  a 
store  on  which  her  heart  fed  in  bitter  days  to  come, 
when,  sundered  by  more  than  time  or  space,  she  had 
need  of  something  to  keep  her  faith  and  patience  from 
failing. 

When  they  halted  for  the  night  at  the  Leslie  Arms, 
in  the  little  village  of  Strathmuir,  James  bid  her  good- 
by,  with  mutual  promises  to  write  every  month  as 
long  as  their  exile  lasted ;  and,  with  the  vows  which 
love  always  offers  to  love,  they  separated,  little  dream- 
ing how  deep  a  chasm  would  yawn  between  them. 

James  rode  home  in  the  gloaming,  and  through  the 
deepening  night,  not  like  a  disconsolate  lover;  but 
buoyant  in  the  assurance  that  circumstances  would 
bend  to  his  will,  and  his  mother's  opposition  would 
cease  when  he  let  her  see  that,  for  him,  it  was  Janet 
or  no  one. 

Janet  lay  down  to  weep,  overmastered  by  the  feeling 
that  the  parting  with  her  lover  was  final,  that  nothing 
could  win  the  consent  of  his  stern  mother,  without 
which  she  could  never  be  his  bride. 

It  was  fitting  that  the  burden  should  be  thus 
divided,  for  James  had  none  to  speak  him  fair  and  bid 
him  hope  for  better  days;  Avhile  Janet  had  Helen, 
who  came  and  soothed  her  and  bid  her  hope,  telling 
her  tales  of  Jamie's  boyhood,  how  he  was  so  strong, 
brave,  and  trusty  that  they  all  leaned  on  him;  and 
soon  he  would  be  the  Laird  and  master  of  his  fortune. 

When  they  reached  Braemar,  Helen  had  old  Elspeth 
trace  the  lines  of  Janet's  fortune,  and  they  were  so 
clear  and  correct  regarding  the  past,  that  Janet  could 


I92  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

not  but  give  a  listening  ear  to  the  fair  future  predicted 
for  her  by  the  old  spaewife;  but  all  these  consola- 
tions could  not  wholly  still  her  sad  forebodings. 

James  set  himself  to  work  at  once  in  regard  to  a 
settlement  of  the  estate;  but  met  strenuous  opposition 
from  his  mother,  who  now  felt  that  her  eldest  son 
should  not  be  set  wholly  free  from  her  control.  But 
James  pushed  the  matter  until  the  old  Laird  was 
driven  to  yield,  agreeing  to  settle  the  estate  on  his 
son,  subject  to  an  annuity  to  the  father  during  his  life, 
and,  after  his  death,  two-thirds  of  the  amount  to  his 
mother  and  sister;  while  Thomas  was  to  receive,  a 
sum  paid  down. 

The  old  Laird  was  fairly  worn  out  with  this  discus- 
sion ;  for  he  was  under  a  cross  fire  all  the  while,  Mar- 
garet taking  active  sides  with  her  mother,  and  Thomas 
slyly  inflaming  his  mother  and  sister  with  such  stories 
as  he  could  gather,  or  invent,  of  disaffection  among  the 
tenantry. 

One  result  of  all  this  toil  and  trouble  was  the  thor- 
ough alienation  of  James  from  his  mother  and  sister, 
who  were  so  arrayed  against  his  every  interest  that 
there  was  no  tie  between  them  save  duty;  and  this 
without  love  is  but  an  iron  chain. 

Thomas,  in  the  meanwhile,  was  gone  to  Ardross  "to 
bid  them  good-by  against  his  next  long  voyage,"  he 
said;  but  in  truth  to  make  another  effort  to  win 
Janet,  with  the  field  all  to  himself;  gauging  Janet's 
constancy  by  his  own  truth ;  and  meanly  estimating 
that  until  James  came  into  his  title  their  chances  were 
equal. 

At  first  he  was  encouraged  by  Janet's  readiness  to 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  193 

sit  and  talk  with  him  of  Stoneywold,  and  by  her 
silence  with  regard  to  James.  But  he  was  angered  at 
her  watchfulness  for  the  mail-carrier;  and,  when  the 
bulky  letter  with  James's  bold  superscription  came,  she 
fled  with  it  to  her  room,  and  there  was  no  ride  or  walk 
for  him  that  day. 

In  order  to  break  down  this  barrier,  he  took  care, 
on  post  days,  to  meet  the  carrier  on  the  highroad  and 
on  the  way  back  destroy  these  hateful  missives.  He 
watched  Janet's  weary  look  of  disappointment  as  the 
weeks  passed  into  months  and  no  letter  came  from 
James. 

At  first  this  made  no  difference  in  the  missives  that 
went  back,  which  Thomas  had  proposed  to  destroy, 
but  afterward  thought  better  of  it,  deeming  that  their 
reproaches  would  exasperate  James  and  turn  his  heart 
from  Janet,  making  him  amenable  to  his  mother's 
counsel. 

The  weary  look  of  waiting  in  Janet's  eyes  he  took 
for  a  sign  of  the  waning  of  her  love  for  James.  His 
next  assurance  of  success  came  when  Janet  wrote  at 
longer  intervals,  and  then  ceased  sending  the  letters 
which  brought  no  reply. 

To  a  casual  question  from  Lady  McKenzie,  when 
Thomas  gave  her  his  mother's  message  of  remem- 
brance, his  ready  answer  was:  "They  are  all  well  but 
in  a  great  bustle;  for  James  will  celebrate  his  comin' 
to  the  estate  and  his  betrothal  wi'  Annie  Elsmere  at 
the  same  time.  I  hae  a  letter  frae  Jamie,  Janet,  in 
which  he  sends  his  kind  remembrance  and  says  that 
baith  he  and  Annie  will  write  to  ye.  Annie  will  hae 
ye  to  Kenmuir  for  auld  acquaintance  sake  wi'  Jamie 


194  A  HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

and  hersel',"  and  he  watched  her  grow  pale,  sure  that 
he  had  given  the  death  blow  to  her  love.  This  was 
his  hour,  when,  disgusted  with  James's  treachery  and 
smarting  under  his  desertion,  she  would  be  ready  to 
show  that  she  too  could  forget,  and  could  come  to 
visit  Annie  with  a  lover  of  her  own.  So  he  chose  this 
evening  to  urge  his  faithful  devotion  in  contrast  with 
his  light-o'-love  brother. 

She  was  sitting  alone,  in  front  of  the  house,  looking 
out  over  the  glen,  where,  like  a  placid  lake,  the  mist 
lay  white  and  still  in  the  moonlight,  and  a  dull  misery 
lay  upon  her  heart,  clouding  the  future,  as  the  glen 
was  shrouded. 

Then  came  the  memory  of  the  past,  of  which  noth- 
ing could  rob  her;  his  vows  of  love,  the  ringing  pas- 
sion of  his  voice,  the  brightness  of  his  smile,  the  depth 
of  tenderness  in  his  eye,  as  he  dwelt  fondly  on  his 
love  for  her  from  early  boyhood;  and  she  shook  off 
the  dreary  present,  and  determined  to  live  in  the  past, 
and  wait  for  the  future.  Then  it  crossed  her  thought 
that  she  might  brave  the  lonely  ride  to  Braemar  and 
call  upon  old  Elspeth  to  solve  the  riddle;  at  that 
moment  she  heard  Thomas's  step,  and  he  came  and 
sat  down  beside  her. 

"Janet,"  he  began,  "I  was  sorry  to  be  the  bearer 
o'  ill  tidin's  to  ye;  but  ye  ken  that  absence  aft  mak's 
a  man  forget;  and  Jamie,  puir  lad,  was  ever  that  way, 
hot  for  havin'  what  lay  near  to  hand,  and  he  wad  soon 
forget  whan  the  toy  was  taen  out  o'  his  sight.  Wi' 
me  it  was  itherwise;  whan  my  heart  was  set  on  ony- 
thing,  I  held  fast  by  it  till  it  was  mine;  wad  do  well- 
nigh  ony thing  to  compass  my  desire." 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  195 

"Aye,"  broke  in  Janet  sharply,  "I  believe  ye, 
Thomas." 

Encouraged  by  this,  Thomas  plunged  on,  "I  was 
sure,  Janet,  whan  ye  cam'  to  ken  us,  ye  wad  find  us 
oot.  And  noo  I  am  ready  to  tell  ye  why  I  hae  lin- 
gered sae  lang  in  Ross.  I  kenned  how  it  wad  gae  wi' 
Jamie,  and  that  forme  there  could  be  no  change;  and 
now  that  Jamie  has  his  blue-eyed  Annie,  I  will  claim 
my  brown-eyed  Janet.  Ye  are  mine  by  right  o'  a 
love  that  canna  change,  and  as  mine  I  wad  hae  ye  gae 
to  visit  Annie  and  her  fause  James."  With  this 
crowning  effort,  he  closed  his  appeal  or,  rather,  asser- 
tion of  his  right,  by  reaching  out  to  embrace  her. 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  and  stood  tall  and  erect  before 
him,  outlined  against  the  mist,  like  a  wraith;  and, 
while  he  cowered  before  her,  answered  him,  without 
a  tremor  in  her  voice,  "Ye  are  fause-hearted,  Thomas 
Muir,  to  the  very  core;  so  fause  that  ye  canna  ken 
that  anither  may  be  true.  Ye  ken  my  bindin'  to 
Jamie,  and,  gin  he  were  fause  to  it,  I  wad  be  true  till 
death.  But  Jamie  is  true;  his  verra  body  bears  the 
mark  o'  truth,  the  ring  o'  his  voice,  the  tread  o'  his 
foot,  the  glint  o'  his  e'en.  But  ye  hae  a  slippery 
voice,  and  a  lyin'  e'e,  and  a  crafty  step.  So  I  tell  ye 
noo,  aince  for  a',  Thomas  Muir,  while  Jamie  lives  I 
will  wed  nane  ither;  and,  gin  Jamie  were  deid,  I  wad 
rather  live  on  the  memory  o'  what  he  was,  than  wi' 
sic  a  fause  carle  as  thou,"  and  she  swept  past  him 
into  the  house  and  up  to  her  room,  to  spend  the  night 
in  tears,  and  wait  for  the  morning,  as  watchers  do; 
and,  when  the  day  broke,  to  wish  that  it  were  night 
again  and  time  for  rest. 


196  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

As  time  wore  on  she  faded,  as  the  roses  wither  in 
the  summer's  heat,  finding  that,  like  some  other  things, 
"waiting"  was  easier  to  preach  than  to  practice. 

But  at  least  one  relief  was  granted  her;  Thomas  left 
on  the  next  day;  even  he,  at  last,  was  penetrated  with 
the  belief  that  his  wooing  was  helpless,  and  did  not 
care  to  await  the  disclosure  of  his  peculiar  methods  of 
winning  a  bride,  which  would  surely  overtake  him 
soon. 

In  the  meantime,  James,  made  desperate  by  the  ces- 
sation of  Janet's  letters,  urged  on  the  settlements 
which  would  enable  him  to  woo  her  openly,  insisting 
that  his  father  should  give  him  a  letter  to  Lady  Mc- 
Kenzie  giving  his  formal  consent  to  the  marriage. 

Here  was  a  tug  of  war,  Mrs.  Muir  declaring  that 
she  would  not  live  under  the  same  roof  with  Janet; 
James  as  stoutly  maintaining  that  he  would  not  live 
without  her.  The  poor  old  Laird  could  let  neither 
go,  nor  could  he  persuade  either  to  yield  an  inch. 
At  last  he  effected  a  compromise  which  would  still  the 
noise  of  battle  and  let  him  pass  quietly  away  to  the 
only  rest  he  could  hope  for;  he  gave  James  the  letter 
which  he  demanded,  exacting  from  him  a  promise  not 
to  let  his  mother  know  of  it,  nor  use  it  until  after  his 
death. 

This  put  but  a  short  restriction  on  its  use,  for, 
within  a  month,  he  passed  suddenly  away,  and  James, 
without  further  parley,  told  his  mother  of  the  letter, 
and  informed  her  that  he  was  going  with  it  to  Ross  to 
ask  Lady  McKenzie's  consent  to  his  marriage  with 
Janet. 

"Ye  ken  what  that  means  for  me  and  Margaret," 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  197 

said  Mrs.  Muir,  in  a  hard  voice.  "But  I  reckon  that, 
in  these  days,  the  fair  face  o'  a  lass  wins  mair  hearts 
than  a  mither's  love." 

"I  ken  this,  mither,"  answered  James,  without 
bitterness,  for  his  mood  was  generous  now,  "that,  gin 
Janet  will  be  my  wife,  I  hae  won  a  bonnie  lass  wha 
will  be  a  fond  daughter,  gin  ye  welcome  her  as  such." 

Mrs.  Muir's  lip  curled  with  scorn:  "I  ken  weel 
enow  what  kind  o'  a  daughter  she  wad  be,  wha  has 
turned  awa'  the  heart  o'  a  son  frae  his  mither;"  and, 
having  the  last  word,  she  swept  from  the  room. 

The  next  day  James  was  off  to  Ross. 

The  summer  had  waned,  and  the  fresh  autumn 
days,  with  their  cool  evenings,  were  fine  weather  for 
hard  riding.  John  Gunn  rode  with  him  the  first  day, 
ostensibly  to  take  his  instructions  as  to  things  to  be 
done  in  his  absence  or  made  ready  against  his  return, 
but  really  to  watch  this  romance  which  he  and  Helen 
had  followed  with  such  keen  interest,  and  bring  her 
back  news  how  James  bore  himself  under  the  near 
fulfillment  of  his  hopes. 

Up  and  along  the  Don  side  they  rode,  now  and 
again  crossing  the  stream;  and  ever  the  rushing  waters 
sang  to  the  hasty  lover,  as  they  leapt  down  to  the 
embrace  of  the  sea,  and  they  made  him  long  to  leap 
up  to  the  hills,  where  a  boundless  love  was  awaiting 
him ;  but  it  is  slow  work  up  hill. 

John  rode  about  twenty  miles  with  him,  and,  after 
some  futile  effort  to  talk  of  things  useful,  drifted  per- 
force to  the  only  topic  that  would  hold  the  young 
Laird's  attention — Janet,  and  the  way  to  her,  its  dis- 
tances, delays,  and  their  home-coming. 


198  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

So  bidding  him  Godspeed,  John  turned  back  and 
reported  to  Helen  that  the  Laird  was  "clean  daft;  as 
we  all  are,  bonnie  wife,  whan  ye  beguile  us  wi'  your 
saft  black  e'en." 

"But,  John,"  said  Helen,  "the  Leddy  Janet's  e'en 
arena  black,  nor  unco  saft." 

"Aweel,"  answered  John,  "it  matters  little  the 
color — black,  brown,  or  blue;  it  is  a'  ane  to  the  spell- 
bound, wha  can  rarely  tell  the  color  o'  his  mistress's 
e'en;  and  the  Leddy  Janet  gars  them  look  saft  on 
the  Laird,  howe'er  they  look  on  you." 

"But,  John,  ye  haena  told  me  a  bit  what  the  Laird 
had  to  say,"  said  Helen,  eager  for  the  details,  which 
reminded  her  of  a  time  in  her  life  which  she  would 
not  willingly  forget. 

"My  bonnie  lassie,"  said  John  fondly,  "ye  ken  the 
story  weel;  it  is  aye  the  same  in  hall  or  hovel,  save 
only  anither  name.  Wi'  me  it  was  Helen  that  I  heard 
the  birds  sing  and  the  burns  wimple;  wi'  the  Laird, 
it  was  just  Janet  that  they  dinged  in  his  ears,  owre 
and  owre  again.  And,  faith,  he  seemed  to  catch  the 
tune,  for  it  was  Janet  wi'  himsel',  every  three  or  four 
words.  And,  had  I  askit  him  wha  should  I  let  the 
nether  farm  to,  he  wad  hae  answered  Janet;  and 
what  should  we  ca'  the  gray  filly  it  wad  hae  been 
Janet;  and  wi'  the  same  stuff  he  wad  fence  a  field  or 
big  a  cot.  There  was  but  ane  thing  in  the  lad's 
head,  and  sae  there  was  naught  else  to  be  gotten  frae 
him." 

Helen  threw  herself  into  John's  arms,  with  her  eyes 
aglow,  "Aye,  John;  but  it  is  bonnie." 

"Aye,  and  halesome  too,"  said  John,  as  he  kissed 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  199 

her;  for  she  was  dearer  now  than  when  he  wooed  her 
under  the  hawthorn  hedges. 

After  John  left  him,  James  pricked  up  his  horse 
and  rode  harder,  as  the  rushing  waters  goaded  him 
on.  The  stream  was  swollen  by  recent  rains,  and  the 
day  was  waning  as  he  rode  down  toward  the  ford  of 
Tillyfourie,  when  a  group  of  Highlanders  at  work  in 
a  field  near  the  road  came  running  toward  him,  shout- 
ing and  waving  their  hands.  They  were  like  men 
possessed,  and  he  drew  rein;  and  when  they  reached 
him,  one  stood  at  his  bridle,  and  all  united  in  protest- 
ing against  his  crossing  the  stream. 

"I  am  on  an  errand  that  will  not  bear  delay,  and  I 
must  stop  at  Glenkindie  Inn  this  nicht,"  said  James, 
endeavoring  to  shake  loose  his  horse's  bridle. 

"Ye  maun  bide  here  or  ye  winna  sleep  at  Glenkin- 
die," said  one  of  the  men,  while  another,  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  way,  asked:  "What  do  ye  say,  lads,  shall  we 
lift  him  frae  the  garron,  and  bind  him,  till  the  morn?" 

They  spoke  in  simple  earnest,  and  James  was  mak- 
ing ready  to  force  his  way,  when  he  bethought  him 
that  fair  words  are  better  than  foul  blows,  and  asked : 
"What  for  wad  ye  bind  me?  Gin  it  be  for  friendship 
ye  can  do  it  by  words;  but,  gin  ye  are  foes,  I  hae 
ne'er  been  bound,  and  ye  canna  bind  me  alive." 

"Do  ye  hear  the  feckless  laddie?"  said  the  chief 
spokesman,  whom  they  called  Angus,  a  grizzled  old 
Highlander  whose  brawny  arms,  thrown  around 
James,  would  have  settled  the  question  at  once.  "Ye 
canna  crass  the  ford  and  live,  and  ye  maunna  gae 
frae  our  hands  to  your  death." 

James's  patience  was  exhausted,  when   old  Angus 


200  A   HIGHLAND  CHRONICLE. 

added,  "Ye  are  too  fine  a  lad  to  meet  foul  play,  and 
we  winna  stand  by  and  see  it  dune." 

"But  tell  me  why  I  canna  gae  forth  on  my  errand. 
I  hae  crassed  Don  water  three  times  to-day,"  said 
James,  putting  strong  restraint  on  himself. 

Then  Angus  spoke  out  freely:  "We  were  haein* 
our  cracks,  at  noon  this  day,  anent  the  Don  water  that 
was  brawlin'  down  the  glen.  I  was  tellin'  the  laddies 
o'  the  fause  ford  aboon  my  faither's  cot  on  the  Black 
Water,  and  hoo,  aince  in  ilka  year,  be  it  spring  or  be 
it  fa',  but  always  wi'out  fail  whan  the  water  gang 
brawlin',  we  were  ware  o'  the  kelpie  wha  had  but  ane 
cry:  'The  hour  but  not  the  man  is  come';  and,  watch 
as  we  might,  there  wad  come  some  traveler  to  the 
ford,  and  him  the  kelpie  wad  claim  for  her  ain." 

His  companions  listened,  awestruck,  to  their  oracle, 
but  James,  growing  restive,  broke  in  upon  the  tedious 
recital  of  the  garrulous  old  man:  "What  has  all  this 
to  do  wi'  me?  The  Black  Water  is  far  frae  here  and 
I  am " 

"Haud  fast  your  tongue  and  your  lugs  open,  my 
laddie,  and  ye'll  win  to  be  wiser  than  ye  are  noo," 
replied  the  stolid  old  man  ;  and  James  saw  that  he 
must  fight  it  out  or  hear  it  through,  and  chose  the 
latter. 

Angus  gravely  resumed,  "We  were  haein'  our  crack 
anent  these  wonderfu'  things,  and  I  was  tellin'  o'  the 
bonnie  lads  and  lassies  wham  the  kelpie  had  buried  in 
the  Black  Water,  and  hoo  the  Don  was  roarin'  uncan- 
nily; and,  just  e'er  ye  cam'  in  sight  owre  the  crest  o' 
the  hill,  I  was  ware  o'  the  kelpie's  cry;  and  I  said 
'We  maun  look  out  for  the  man';  and  here  ye  are. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  201 

Noo  ye  ken  why  ye  canna  crass  the  ford  the 
nicht." 

"But,  my  friend,  I  am  in  nae  fear  o'  kelpies,  and 
will  e'en  keep  on  my  way,  with  thanks  for  your  warn- 
ing. Unhand  my  bridle,  good  friend,  and  I'll  wish 
you  farewell,"  said  James  firmly,  and  with  as  much 
patience  as  was  left  to  him. 

"Ye'll  do  naething  o'  the  kind,"  said  Angus,  and, 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  threw  his  arms 
around  James  and  lifted  him  from  his  horse. 

The  old  man's  grip  was  like  iron,  and  he  quietly 
gave  orders  to  bind  James  hand  and  foot,  while  he 
held  him,  and  one  of  them  took  his  horse's  head  to 
lead  him  up  the  hill.  Here  was  a  sorry  plight  for  an 
impatient  lover. 

"Hold  one  moment,  and  listen  to  me,  friend  An- 
gus," said  James,  feeling  like  a  child  that  does  not 
know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry.  "Hae  ye  ne'er  heard 
that  twa  things  gar  a  man  free  frae  the  kelpie's  power, 
a  mither's  love  and  a  true  sweetheart?" 

"Aye,  laddie,"  said  Angus,  "but  where  is  the 
mither  or  the  sweetheart?" 

"I  am  ridin'  hard  to  meet  my  sweetheart,  wha  waits 
for  me  in  the  Highlands,  and  her  heart  is  like  to 
rend,  gin  I  fail  to  come,  and  I  hae  eighty  more  miles 
to  ride.  Gin  I  crass  the  ford  wi'  her  name  on  my  lips 
there  isna  a  kelpie  in  a'  the  Don  that  can  harm  me. 
Ye  tell  me  that  ye  hae  heard  the  kelpie  ca'  frae  the 
Don,  'The  hour  but  not  the  man  is  come';  the  voice 
o'  my  sweetheart  has  been  callin'  to  me  frae  the  Don 
water  that  same  message;  and  I  maun  heed  the  voice 
that  I  hear." 


202  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Old  Angus  listened  solemnly.  "The  laddie  is 
richt;  set  him  up  again,  laddies,  and  let  him  win 
through;  the  kelpie  canna  do  him  harm." 

So  they  watched  him,  as  one  with  a  charmed  life, 
ride  down  through  the  foaming  flood  and  up  the  other 
bank,  and,  as  he  turned  to  wave  his  adieu,  shouted 
over  the  water:  "Fair  fa'  ye,  laddie,  and  your  bonnie 
Highland  lassie!"  and  old  Angus  added  this  to  his 
legends  of  the  kelpies. 

As  James  rode  on,  the  night  fell  dark,  the  gray  moss 
and  lichen  under  the  trees  made  a  sort  of  elfin  moon- 
light, the  chill  wind  soughed  through  the  bare  birches 
an  ourie  song  for  a  lone  rider;  but  against  the  kelpie, 
the  mirk  night,  the  chill  wind,  and  all  boding  sights  or 
sound  he  bore  a  talisman  on  which  was  graven 
"Janet";  which,  as  John  Gunn  said,  was  "halesome. " 

The  inn  marked,  in  a  double  sense,  the  first  stage 
of  his  journey;  for  here  he  had  parted  from  Janet,  but 
little  more  than  a  year  ago,  and  her  presence  haunted 
the  place.  In  his  pocket  was  the  letter  which  told 
him  all  her  hopes  and  fears,  as  she  rested  here  for  the 
night. 

After  seeing  first  to  the  care  of  his  faithful  pony, 
.and  then  paying  due  respect  to  a  hearty,  hot  supper, 
he  went  straight  to  the  room  where  the  letter  was 
written,  and  read  it  and  a  budget  in  the  same  hand- 
writing, and  then,  like  a  sensible  young  man,  instead 
of  wasting  his  time  by  going  straight  to  bed,  he  read 
them  all  over  a  second  time,  and  some  of  them  a  third 
time. 

The  next  day's  ride  was -on  up  the  Don,  then 
through   Glen  Avon,  past  old  Cairngorm   and   along 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  203 

Loch  Avon  to  Spey  side,  a  good  forty-five  miles.  He 
met  the  parties  of  bee-harvesters  bringing  home  the 
hives  that  had  been  all  summer  on  the  moors  and 
were  now  full  of  the  strong,  rich  mountain  honey. 
He  heard  their  merry  voices,  as  they  reckoned  up  the 
fruits  of  the  industry  of  their  little  servants,  and  esti- 
mated which  hive  held  a  comb  fit  for  the  Laird,  or  the 
parson,  or  the  factor.  James,  who  was  after  honey 
too,  gave  them  a  friendly  greeting,  and  thought  of  his 
home-coming. 

During  this  night's  halt  he  cheered  his  solitude  by 
another  perusal  of  the  letters ;  which  seemed  to  gain 
freshness  and  interest  as  he  drew  nearer  to  the  writer. 

Early  the  next  morning  he  crossed  the  auld  brig 
and  rode  along  the  Spey  for  the  head  of  Loch  Ness, 
and  so  on  to  the  home  of  his  Janet. 

It  was  more  than  fifty  miles  to  ride  and  it  was  far 
into  the  night  before  he  halted  at  the  door  and,  fumb- 
ling about  in  the  dark,  by  dint  of  knocking  and  shout- 
ing at  last  roused  the  inmates;  for  young  Roderick 
McKenzie  was  not  wakened  until  the  whole  house 
was  roused. 

When  the  young  Laird  of  Ardross  recognized  the 
voice  of  his  cousin  of  Stoneywold,  he  shouted  through 
the  hall  to  Janet  to  make  ready  a  room  for  Jamie 
Muir. 

While  Janet  lingered,  in  order  that  her  own  ears 
might  assure  her  that  this  was  not  a  dream,  old  Lady 
McKenzie  came  into  the  hall  and  bid  Janet  go  to  bed, 
and  allow  her  to  see  to  the  care  of  guests,  as  she  had 
always  done.  "And  when  they  come  at  siccan 
uncanny  hours,  wi'  dinsome  racket  to  rout  peacefu' 


204  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

folk  frae  their  rest,  they  were  more  mannerly  to  bide 
in  the  byre,  or  lie  down  wi'  the  hounds  before  the 
hearth." 

So  she  sent  the  household  to  their  beds,  calling 
down  through  the  dark  to  her  son :  "Roderick,  ye  can 
bid  Jamie  Muir  bide  where  he  is,  or  can  gie  him  a 
share  o'  your  ain  bed;  but  he  maun  bide  still  and  not 
disturb  the  sleep  o'  quiet  folk  ony  mair!"  with  which 
scant  courtesy  she  went  back  to  her  room. 

Lady  McKenzie  was  not  lacking  in  the  Highland 
grace  of  hospitality,  and  James  Muir  was  a  favorite  of 
hers ;  but  her  heart  was  sore  for  her  Janet,  who  had 
been  little  else  than  cast  out  of  Stoneywold,  and  she 
suspected  the  reason.  She  knew  that  there  had  been 
youthful  love  passages  between  Jamie  and  her  girl ; 
she  knew,  from  Lady  Stoneyvvold's  own  lips,  that 
Margaret  Erskine  was,  at  least,  second  choice  for  her 
son. 

And  this  Margaret  Erskine,  with  a  dower  ten  times 
greater  than  her  Janet's,  famed  through  the  shire  for 
her  beauty,  having  traveled  and  seen  the  world,  easy 
in  her  manners,  witty  and  genial,  had  won  the  name 
of  "Merry  Meg"  among  her  wide  circle  of  friends 
and  kinsfolk.  And  now  she  was  Janet's  guest,  and 
James  Muir  was  come  to  court  her,  before  Janet's 
eyes;  and  the  heart  of  the  old  lady  was  sore  at  the 
thought  of  how  her  girl  must  be  wounded  and  give  no 
sign.  She  lay  awake  planning  how  to  humble  this 
truculent  lover,  who  was  fain  to  buy  his  own  pleasure 
at  the  expense  of  her  Janet;  and  made  up  her  mind 
that  she  would  set,  here  and  there,  a  thorn  among 
Master  Muir's  roses. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  205 

Janet  went  to  her  room,  and  she  too  passed  a  sleep- 
less night,  not  planning  to  set  thorns  or  roses  in 
Jamie's  path;  but  in  a  tumult  as  to  what  the  message 
from  his  mother  might  be. 

As  she  communed  with  her  own  heart  in  the  night 
watches,  she  recalled  passages  of  his  letters,  needing 
no  candle  to  read  them;  for  she  knew  them  by  heart. 

James  too  passed  but  an  indifferent  night,  and  was 
up  betimes;  now  seated  in  front  of  the  fire,  warming 
himself  with  the  recital  of  what  he  would  say  to  her 
and  what  she  would  say  to  him,  then  starting  out  into 
the  cold  haur  of  the  early  morn  repeating: 

"  Oh  !  I'm  wat,  wat. 
Oh  !  I'm  wat  and  weary, 
Fain  wad  I  rise  and  rin 
Thinkin'  o'  my  dearie." 

But  when,  through  the  window  of  the  dining-room, 
he  saw  his  "dearie"  superintending  the  preparations 
for  breakfast,  and  started  to  "rin,"  with  his  hand  on 
the  door,  he  paused — why,  he  could  not  tell.  How 
hard  he  had  ridden  to  meet  her,  why  did  he  wait  on 
the  threshold — his  heart  thumped,  his  ears  were  ring- 
ing, and  all  his  fine  speeches  were  forgotten.  It  does 
not  do  to  rehearse  for  such  parts;  the  drama  plays 
itself.  At  last  he  "tirled  the  pin"  and  was  in  her 
presence. 

"Janet,"  he  gasped,  "I  hae   come "  then  his 

breath  failed  him. 

"I  kenned  that  ye  wad  come,  Jamie,"  she  said 
sweetly,  and  came  to  his  arms  as  though  their  parting 
had  been  but  over  night.  "And  ye  find  me  true, 
Jamie ;  for  I  wadna  forfeit  the  bonnie  token  that  ye 


206  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

gied  me,"  and  she  pointed  to  the  brooch  with  the 
true  lover's  knot.  Then,  seeing  that  he  was  still 
under  the  spell  of  thoughts  too  strong  for  speech,  she 
said  lightly,  "I  am  ovvre  fond  o'  bawbies,  Jamie;  and 
was  bound  to  keep  this,  for  I  wear  nane  ither, "  and 
she  laughed  softly,  as  she  nestled  closer  to  him. 

Then  he  laughed  too,  and  did  ever  so  much  more, 
as  these  kind  of  people  have  done  and  will  do,  and 
which  needs  no  further  description ;  for  those  who 
have  done  it  know  all  about  it ;  and  those  who  have 
not,  might  deem  it  folly ;  and  these  two  were  not 
fools. 

The  story  of  the  intercepted  letters  was  soon 
guessed,  and  it  was  "halesome"  for  Thomas  that  he 
was  on  the  high  seas. 

Into  this  scene  came  Merry  Meg,  who  needed  no 
other  explanation  than  a  hug  and  kiss  of  great  inten- 
sity from  Janet ;  while  James,  if  he  had  been  gifted 
with  four  legs,  would  not  have  had  one  left  to  stand 
on. 

"I  hae  always  heard  that  ye  maun  rise  early,  if  ye 
wad  hear  the  laverock's  sweetest  song,  and  I  was  aye 
fond  o'  the  song  o'  birds.  But  I  am  unco  fond  o'  a 
guid  breakfast ;  and  gin  ye  think  to  gar  me  feast  on 
sic  thin  fare  as  I  see  here,  then  ye  maun  find  me  a 
lover,  wha  has  ridden  a  hundred  miles  and  mair,  to 
tell  me  that  I  hae  bonnie  brown  eyes  and  am  a'  the 
world  to  him,  and  sic  like  clishmaclaver.  Be  aff  wi' 
ye,  Janet,  and  see  to  the  breakfast,  while  I  court  your 
Jamie,  a  bit,  in  the  window-seat,  and  gar  him  see  how 
a  girl  wha  isna  love-daft  can  handle  a  bonnie  lad. 
Come,  Jamie;"  and  she  drew  him  to  the  window-seat 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  207 

and  plunged  con  amore  into  the  whole  matter,  not  only 
into  the  past  with  its  shadows,  but  into  the  sunny- 
future  on  to  the  wedding,  when,  where,  and  how  it 
was  to  be.  And,  better  than  all,  she  undertook  to 
manage  the  announcement  to  Lady  McKenzie. 
Jamie  was  like  wax  in  the  hands  of  this  bold  leader, 
to  whom  obstacles  were  only  cobwebs. 

So,  while  Janet  kept  flitting  in  and  out  of  the  room 
making  ready  the  morning  meal,  Meg  was  preparing 
for  her  a  morsel  sweeter  than  the  mountain  honey  and 
stronger  than  the  "bread  that  perisheth." 

When  Lady  McKenzie  came  down  she  found  Janet 
doing  her  duty,  like  a  diligent  little  housewife,  James 
and  Miss  Erskine  sitting  apart  in  the  window-seat, 
talking  earnestly  in  an  undertone. 

The  old  lady,  using  the  kinsman's  right  to  chide, 
welcomed  James  with  :  "Ye  hae  a  braw  tap  for  a  mid- 
night hour,  Jamie  Muir.  I  trust  ye  left  your  leddy 
mither  more  comfortable  than  ye  found  me,  nigh 
frighted  into  an  ague  by  your  night  alarum." 

"I  left  my  mither  very  well,  and  present  her  com- 
pliments to  your  Leddyship,  and  am  sorry  that  I  dis- 
turbed ye;  but  I  was  weary,  frae  a  sair  lang  ride,  for 
I  hae  ridden  fast  and  hard,  and  was  fain  to  find  shel- 
ter for  my  pony  and  mysel'." 

"The  byre  was  open  to  ye  baith.  But  ye  maun 
mak'  less  haste ;  ye  were  aye  a  bit  head  owre  heels, 
Jamie,"  said  the  old  lady;  then  to  Miss  Erskine, 
"Meg,  lass,  ye  are  better  nearer  the  fire;  the  haur  is 
cauld  and  unhalesome,  and  ye  gie  sma'  heed  to  your 
health." 

Meg,  with  a   smile,   came  forward,  and,  standing 


208  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

beside  the  hearth,  with  her  arm  on  the  mantel  shelf, 
made  far  too  handsome  a  picture  to  please  the  old 
lady;  nor  did  it  add  to  her  charms  when  she  said: 
"Jamie  was  tellin'  me  that  which  made  me  forget  the 
haur  o'  the  mornin'." 

"Aweel,"  answered  Lady  McKenzie,  "it  isna  fendy 
to  gie  too  quick  an  ear  to  a  laddie's  clavers.  Jamie 
hasna  sleepit  weel  eneuch  to  hae  the  fu'  power  o'  his 
wits;"  which  brought  a  peal  of  laughter  from  Meg 
directed  at  Jamie,  while  Janet  looked  like  a  rosy  dawn. 

The  old  lady  was  sadly  nonplussed.  She  could 
guess  the  riddle  so  far  as  it  touched  James  and  this 
saucy  Meg;  but  what  of  Janet? 

By  Meg's  advice,  James  was  to  present  his  creden- 
tials before  breakfast.  "It  will  be  sae  bonnie  to  hae 
a  kind  o'  weddin'  breakfast  to  celebrate  your  trystin' ; 
and  we  will  a'  eat  wi'  a  fine  appetite,"  she  had  said. 

In  accordance  with  this  plan,  Meg,  who  could  go 
very  far  with  Lady  McKenzie  and  not  come  to  grief, 
broke  in  at  this  point:  "My  Leddy,  I  hae  counseled 
Jamie  to  tell  you  our  bit  o'  news  before  breakfast; 
it  will  gar  us  eat  in  merry  mood.  He  has  a  letter  for 
you  frae  his  faither. " 

"Meg,  lass,  haud  thy  folly  and  mak'  nae  sic  un- 
canny jokes  ovvre  the  puir  Laird,  wha  is  past  haudin' 
commerce  wi'  us,"  said  Lady  McKenzie  sternly. 

"It  isna  a  joke,  my  Leddy,"  said  James,  producing 
the  letter  and,  in  his  confusion,  the  budget  of  Janet's 
letters  too. 

"Hand  them  a'  owre,  Jamie,"  laughed  Meg. 
"They'll  be  bonnie  readin'  and  will  refresh  Leddy 
McKenzie's  memory." 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  209 

James  fumbled  with  the  letters,  Janet  stood  waiting 
in  a  sort  of  sweet  misery,  Lady  McKenzie  frowned 
sternly,  while  Meg  rang  out  peal  after  peal  of  laugh- 
ter. At  last  James  found  and  handed  over  the  letter, 
explaining  as  well  as  he  could  that,  in  accordance  with 
his  father's  request,  he  had  come  to  ask  Janet's  hand, 
which  he  had  been  kept  from  doing  sooner  by  his 
father's  death  and  the  settlement  of  his  affairs. 

Lady  McKenzie  felt  as  though  she  were  being  asked 
to  accept  the  statement  that  black  was  white;  but  did 
not  propose  that  anyone  should  see  how  she  felt. 
After  reading  the  letter  very  slowly,  amid  the  silence 
of  all  the  rest,  she  turned  to  Janet:  "And  do  ye  lo'e 
him,  lassie?" 

"Aye,  mither,  as  my  life,"  said  Janet,  looking  not 
at  her  mother  but  at  James. 

"Then  he  can  tak'  ye,"  said  the  old  lady,  with  a 
tremulous  voice. 

"I  will  be  true  to  her,  my  Leddy,  as  I  hae  been 
syne  I  was  a  boy,"  said  Jamie. 

"I  ken  that,  my  laddie,  or  I  wadna  let  her  gae  wi' 
ye;  and  may  the  blessin'  o'  our  faithers'  God  bide 
wi'  ye  baith;  Roderick,  say  grace,  and  we  will  to 
breakfast.  Janet,  sit  ye  by  Jamie  and  ye  can  eat  your 
first  parritch  thegither,  out  o'  the  same  bowl,  gin  ye 
wad  relish  it." 

"And  I'll  salt  it  for  guid  luck,"  said  Meg,  and  she 
kissed  Janet  over  and  over  again,  and  all  went  mer- 
rily, as  it  should  when  parted  lovers  are  brought  side 
by  side  for  life. 

They  were  married,  on  James's  birthday,  in  the  kirk 
of  Ardross,   with  Meg  as  bridesmaid,  and  Roderick 


210  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

McKenzie  gave  away  the  bride.  John  Gunn  and 
Helen  rode  all  the  way  to  Ross  to  see  the  closing 
chapter  of  this  story,  which  they  knew  from  the  very 
beginning. 

Lady  Stoneywold  and  her  daughter  sent  not  even 
one  word  of  greeting  to  her  son  and  his  bonnie  bride, 
hearing  with  great  disgust  that  Margaret  Erskine  had 
been  bridesmaid  where  she  should  have  been  bride ; 
which  showed  that  the  plans  of  women,  like  those  of 
"mice  and  men,"  may  "gang  aglee." 

They  lingered  but  a  little  while  in  Ross,  and  started 
on  the  long  ride  homeward,  with  John  and  Helen  as 
attendants,  as  blithe  a  party  as  ever  traveled  that 
road.  Janet  said  that  it  was  worth  all  it  cost  to  win 
such  joy  as  this. 

The  waning  sun  seemed  to  lap  the  earth  in  golden 
beauty;  the  parting  song  of  birds  and  the  hum  of 
insects  sounded  cheery ;  and  even  the  mist,  as  it  crept 
cold  and  chill  from  glen  and  burn,  reminded  them 
how  cosy  the  wayside  inn  would  be,  with  its  crack- 
ling fire  and  hot  supper. 

When  they  reached  Stoneywold,  Mrs.  Muir  met 
them  with  glunch  and  gloom,  which  James  was  fain  to 
bear  as  well  as  he  could ;  but  he  set  Janet,  without 
more  ado,  at  the  head  of  his  house,  and  in  a  master- 
ful way  bade  his  sister  remember  that  she  was  mistress 
of  Stoneywold  ;  and  this  in  his  mother's  presence. 
Such  a  state  of  things  could  not  long  endure,  and  soon, 
to  the  great  relief  of  all  parties,  Mrs.  Muir  and  Mar- 
garet went  to  live  in  Aberdeen. 

Janet  won  her  way  to  all  hearts,  by  her  strong 
sense  and  unchanging  truth  and  goodness.     "She  is 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  211 

bonnie  and  fendy,  and  as  leal  as  she  is  fair,"  was 
John  Gunn's  summary  of  her;  and  let  it  stand  in  lieu 
of  any  other.  She  was  thoroughly  alive  to  all  that 
concerned  the  estate  and  the  welfare  of  the  tenants. 
"She  has  mony  a  crack  wi'  the  Laird,  when  I  am  main 
glad  that  it  is  not  me  she  has  taen  up,"  said  John  in 
telling  Helen  of  the  ways  of  the  new  Leddy. 

Nor  need  old  Lady  Stoneywold  have  looked  any 
farther  for  a  wife  for  James  who  could  take  a  position 
in  the  shire,  worthy  of  the  mistress  of  Stoneywold. 

She  became  warmly  attached  to  Helen  and,  through 
her,  deeply  interested  in  the  strange  race  from  which 
she  was  sprung.  They  were  drawn  still  closer  by 
their  common  interest  in  a  gypsy  girl  whom  John  had 
brought  from  the  camp,  for  Helen  to  nurse.  The  poor 
girl  was  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption,  past  all  help 
save  the  soothing  of  her  little  remnant  of  life,  to 
which  Janet  contributed,  not  only  with  delicacies 
made  by  her  own  hands,  but  even  more  by  her  daily 
visits  to  the  cot. 

As  she  strove  to  speak  comforting  words  to  the 
girl,  she  found  that  the  troubled  spirit  was  wrestling, 
alone,  with  the  great  problem  of  the  hereafter;  and 
death  was  casting  a  shadow  darker  than  the  pain  and 
weariness  of  disease. 

At  last  Janet  persuaded  her  to  see  the  minister,  and 
came,  the  next  afternoon,  bringing  Gordon  McDonald. 

It  gave  one  help  to  look  into  his  broad  face,  over 
which  the  light  of  humor  or  depth  of  tenderness  would 
sweep  like  sunlight  over  the  water,  while  his  kindling 
eye  imparted  his  feeling  to  others. 

He  drew  near  the  couch  on  which  the  dying  girl 


212  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

rested,  and,  gently  laying  his  strong  hand  on  her  thin 
and  wasted  fingers,  smiled  into  her  eyes;  and  she 
smiled  back  on  him,  as  on  an  old  friend. 

"Ye  arena  weel,  lassie;  but  we  a'  maun  learn, 
sooner  or  later,  that  this  is  not  a'  our  life.  'Tis  a 
bonnie  world,"  he  said,  looking  out  on  the  bright 
winter  sunshine;  "but,  by  a'  accounts,  yon  world  is 
bonnier  far  than  this,  and  nae  mair  sickness  is  there, 
nor  ony  greetin',  and  death  canna  win  to  that  city." 

The  girl  listened  intently  while  the  rich  voice,  mel- 
low with  sympathy,  soothed  her  by  its  mere  tones, 
and  bore  her  along  as  on  a  broad,  flowing  current. 
When  he  stopped  speaking,  it  was  as  if  a  low  melody, 
to  which  the  ear  was  straining  to  listen,  had  suddenly 
censed. 

"But  I  dinna  ken  onything  anent  the  doctrines  o' 
the  Kirk,"  said  Elsie  Graham  pensively.  "I  ken 
naething  o'  prayin'  nor  what  I  ought  to  say;  but  I  am 
wae  o'  gangin'  to  yon  warld  which  is  fu'  o'  wraiths 
and  bogies  and  ghaists  and  a'  sic  like  uncanny  creat- 
ures;" and  the  girl  looked  wistfully  to  the  minister  to 
lift  the  shadows  lying  athwart  her  soul.  His  eyes 
were  fully  as  sad  as  hers;  for  how  should  he  tell  the 
quickly  passing  soul  the  truth,  in  such  clear,  potent 
form  as  would  reach  her  heart  and  still  the  passion  of 
its  hunger. 

"My  lassie,"  he  said  tenderly,  "ye  hae  naught  to 
do  wi'  the  Kirk  or  its  doctrines.  Gin  it  be  God's  will 
to  spare  ye,  we  can  talk  o'  that  at  our  leisure ;  and  I 
wad  be  fain  to  win  ye  to  the  Kirk  and  teach  ye  her 
sound  and  precious  doctrines.  But  now  we  maun 
look  at  the  matter  in   anither  light  and  spier  how  ye 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  213 

are  to  find,  right  now,  peace  wi'  God  and  sure  hope 
for  the  life  to  come." 

"Aye,"  interposed  Elsie,  "that  is  what  gars  me 
greet ;  for  I  am  wae  to  gang  into  yon  gruesome 
warld." 

"Yes,  lassie,  I  ken  that  mony  are  sair  frighted  anent 
the  warld  ayont  this  life;  but  they  aftwhiles  fiichter 
themselves  because  they  forget  that  the  same  guid 
God  wha  made  this  warld  a  bonnie  place  for  us,  where 
we  only  bide  a  wee,  winna  forget  to  big  us  a  bonnier 
house  where  we  are  to  bide  for  aye.  The  Guid  Book 
has  naught  to  say  o'  wraiths  and  bogies  and  siccan 
creatures ;  but  it  tells  us  that,  when  we  are  free  frae 
these  puir  sickly  bodies,  we  shall  be  like  the  angels  o' 
God,  which  are  sae  bonnie  to  look  on ;  and  we  shall 
be  clad  in  white,  wi'  crowns  on  our  heads  like  kings, 
and  shall  greet  nae  mair.  And  a'  this  we  win  to, 
wi'out  ony  price,  as  the  free  gift  o'  God  through  his 
Son." 

The  girl  listened,  her  dark  eyes  dilating,  as  the 
minister  culled,  from  the  visions  of  the  Apocalypse, 
such  immortelles  as  he  thought  she  would  prize. 

"Aye,  minister,  that  is  bonnie;  but  I  dinna  ken 
the  Son  o'  God.  Do  ye  ken  Him?  Will  ye  ask  it  frae 
Him,  for  me?  Bides  He  far  frae  here,  at  the  king's 
court?"  She  poured  forth  these  questions  with 
breathless  eagerness. 

"Nay,  my  lassie,  ye  winna  find  Him  at  the  court  o' 
kings.     He  is  not  far  frae  ony  ane  o'  us." 

The  girl  looked  round  with  a  start. 

"He  isna  a  wraith  or  bogie,  is  he?" 

"Na,  na,  my  lassie,"  said  Mr.  McDonald,  praying 


214  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

the  while  that  he  might  say  just  the  right  thing.  "He 
is  just  like  the  sun  in  the  sky  aboon  us;  and,  like  the 
sun  shinin'  everywhere  at  the  same  time,  the  Son  cT 
God  shines  wi'  His  love  into  our  hearts." 

"I  can  see  the  bonnie  sunshine,  minister;  but 
I  canna  feel  His  love  shinin'  in  my  heart.  Perhaps, 
minister,  the  Son  o'  God  canna  love  just  a  puir  Egyp- 
tian lass.  I  hae  dune  nae  great  ill  to  ony  man,  but  I 
ken  weel  eneuch  that  I  amna  fit  to  bide  amang  lairds 
and  leddies;  and  it  wad  irk  me  sair  to  be  in  their 
company.  And  sae,  minister,  it  may  be'better  just  to 
leave  me  gang  where  a'  the  lave  o'  my  folk  are  in  the 
ither  warld,  for  I  doubt  that  I  could  be  made  fit  for 
braw  company;"  and  she  fell  back  wearily  upon  her 
pillow  and  closed  her  eyes,  as  though  this  were  the 
end  of  the  matter. 

Then  the  heart  of  this  man  of  God  was  stirred. 
He  did  not  question  that  the  truth  could  penetrate  the 
twilight  of  this  soul  and  make  it  shine  as  the  perfect 
day;  but  he  doubted  whether  there  lay  in  him  that 
power  of  sympathy  making  him  so  akin  to  her  that  he 
could  bring  the  truth  home  to  her  heart;  and  he 
prayed  God  to  bring  him  nearer  in  heart  to  this  gypsy 
girl.     And  as  he  prayed  the  light  broke  over  him. 

Passing  his  hand  gently  over  the  damp  forehead  he 
said:  "Ye  needna  answer  me,  my  lassie,  but  I  will 
tell  ye  a  story  o'  the  Son  o'  God  and  a  gypsy  chief. 
Lang  whiles  He  had  shone  on  men  like  the  sun  in  the 
sky;  but  they  said,  as  ye  said  but  now,  we  canna  see 
Him  nor  feel  His  love  in  our  hearts.  Then  He  said,  I 
will  come  down  to  them  and  gang  aboot  wi'  them,  and 
they  shall  look  on  me  and  ken  that  I  am  wi'  them. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  215 

So  He  was  just  born,  like  ony  ither  child,  frae  the 
daughter  o'  a  king  o'  Judah;  and  He  lived  like  ony 
ither  man,  save  that  He  ne'er  did  wrang;  and  He 
healit  men's  sicknesses.  But  He  cam'  to  an  ill-faured 
race,  wha  didna  believe  on  Him,  save  only  a  few  o* 
them  ;  so  they  took  Him  and  nailit  Him  to  a  crass,  and 
garred  Him  hang  there  to  dee.  And  a'  this  He  bore 
to  win  us  a  hame  in  yon  warld  ayont  this  life.  But 
while  He  was  hangin'  on  the  crass  and  the  cruel 
nails  garred  His  hands  and  feet  bleed  sairly,  and  the 
hot  fever  was  burnin'  in  His  body  and  the  sun  beatin' 
down  on  His  head,  there  hung  by  His  side  twa  gyp- 
sies; ane  o'  them  the  chief  o'  a  band  wha  lived  by 
robbin'  and  murderin'  honest  folk,  wha  had  done  nae 
guid  but  only  evil,  a'  his  life  lang. 

"But  when  the  people,  wha  had  come  to  see  the 
hangin',  stood  girnnin'  at  the  Son  o'  God  because  He 
had  saved  ithers  but  didna  save  Himsel',  the  gypsy 
chief,  turnin'  to  Him,  said*' Lord,  dinna  forget  me  when 
ye  win  to  your  palace' ;  and  the  Son  o'  God  said  to  him, 
'This  day  shalt  thou  be  wi'  me  in  the  bonnie  garden 
o'  the  Lord.'  So  ye  see,  my  lassie,  the  Lord  is  unco 
glad  to  bid  the  gypsies  welcome,  gin  they  are  willin* 
to  come." 

The  soft  tears  were  stealing  through  the  closed  eye- 
lids, as  she  listened. 

"Why  didna  He  save  Himsel'  frae  the  bitter 
death?"  she  asked  softly. 

"The  knowledge  o'  that,  mayhap,  ye  canna  win  to, 
my  lassie;  but  I  will  tell  ye  summat  mair  o'  the  story. 
When  He  died,  they  took  Him  frae  the  crass  and 
buried  Him  and  sealit  up  the  grave,  settin'  a  guard  o' 


216  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

soldiers  owre  it;  but  the  angels  o'  God  cam'  down 
and  brak'  the  seals  and  drave  awa'  the  guard,  and  the 
Son  o'  God  cam'  oot  o'  the  grave  alive  and  showed 
Himsel'  to  His  friends,  and,  before  their  very  e'en, 
rose  up  into  the  sky,  blessin'  them  and  sayin',  'I  am  wi' 
ye  to  the  end  o'  the  warld'.  He  took  this  way  o' 
deein'  first  and  risin'  frae  the  deid  and  ascendin'  to 
heaven,  that,  wi'  His  ain  bluid,  he  might  wash  awa' 
our  sins  and  gar  us  see  how  we  should  rise  frae  the 
deid,  and  gang  to  bide  wi'  Him  in  heaven.  Do  ye 
mind,  lassie?" 

"Aye,  minister,"  she  said,  "I  mind  it  weel;  the 
story  is  unco  bonnie,  but  I  canna  understand  it  a',  it 
is  sae  new  and  strange." 

"He  doesna  bid  us  understand  it,  lassie,"  said  the 
minister,  "for  then  we  couldna  win  there.  The  gypsy 
chief  couldna  understand  it,  and  we  ministers  can 
understand  but  a  wee  bit.  But  ye  can  believe  it, 
lassie;  and  it  is  a  bonnie  thing  just  to  tak'  the  Son  o' 
God  at  His  word,  and  leave  a'  the  lave  to  Him." 

"I  will  try  to  believe  it,  minister.  It  is  a  bonnie 
story,  but  it  gars  me  greet." 

"Aye,  lassie,  we  maun  greet  owre  the  sorrows  that 
befell  the  blessed  Saviour;  but  He  is  glad  owre  the 
joys  that  He  has  bought  for  you  ;  and  ye  maun  try  to 
believe  Him,  and  He  will  gie  ye  help  to  believe  mair." 

"I  will,  minister,"  she  said. 

Then  they  bid  her  good-by,  and  Janet,  leaning 
over,  kissed  Elsie  fondly,  and  passed  out  into  the 
bracing  winter  air,  with  her  heart  too  full  for  words. 

When  they  had  gone  a  little  way  in  silence  she 
turned  to  her  companion  with  the  query. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  217 

"What  do  you  think  of  her,  Mr.  McDonald?" 
"She  is  a  dear  lassie,"  he  answered  tenderly. 
'  'And  my  heart  is  glad  when  I  think  that  I  led  her  to 
say  that  which  won  a  blessin'  frae  the  Lord  when  on 
earth:  'Lord,  I  believe;  help  Thou  mine  unbelief.'  " 
It  was  in  such  scenes  as  this  that  Janet  won  the  bless- 
ings of  the  tenantry.  They  could  depend  upon  her 
to  grace  their  weddings,  to  gladden  their  christenings, 
and  to  stand  by  the  bedside  of  the  dying.  To  her 
they  brought  their  troubles  for  consolation,  their  per- 
plexities for  solution,  their  little  hoards  of  money  for 
safe-keeping;  and  the  Laird  himself  was  not  more  felt, 
as  a  power  on  the  estate,  than  was  the  '  'canty  Leddy 
o'  Stoneywold." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"kings  and   bears    aft  worry    their   keepers." 

WHILE  life  at  Stoneywold  was  thus  placidly  mold- 
ing itself  into  another  generation,  and  there 
had  come  another  James  Muir,  and  a  Charles,  and  an 
Edward,  to  wake  the  long  silent  echoes  which  waited 
in  the  nooks  and  corners  of  the  old  Hall  for  chil- 
dren's voices  to  rouse  them,  the  outside  world  was 
stirred  with  the  portent  of  a  coming  storm.  The  air 
was  full  of  vague  rumors,  making  men  feel  that  some- 
thing momentous  was  at  hand. 

There  were  gatherings  of  the  gentlemen  under  cover 
of  a  hunt  which  failed  to  make  the  meet,  or  a  hasty 
summons  to  the  castle  of  some  nobleman ;  and  such  a 
summons  took  precedence  of  business  or  pleasure. 

These  gatherings  were  limited  to  those  known  to 
favor  the  old  regime,  who  spoke  of  the  reigning  sover- 
eign as  "the  Elector";  when  they  said  "the  King," 
they  had  in  mind  a  gallant  youth,  with  long,  golden 
locks  and  a  courtly  air,  which  won  the  hearts  of  men 
.and  turned  the  heads  of  women,  the  "bonnie  Prince 
Charlie." 

What  these  gatherings  portended,  no  outsider 
knew;  but  that  they  were  not  mourners  met  to  bewail 
the  loss  of  the  good  old  days,  was  apparent  from  the 
buoyant  manner  of  the  gentlemen  as  they  gathered  or 
dispersed. 

218 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  219 

The  Laird  of  Stoneywold  was  constant  in  his  at- 
tendance at  these  meetings  and  ardent  in  his  hopes  as 
to  their  issue.  John  Gunn  insisted  on  his  right,  as 
retainer,  to  follow  the  Laird  on  these  expeditions; 
and  an  incident  of  one  of  their  rides  convinced  James 
that  it  was  wiser  to  accept  his  escort. 

He  had  been  summoned  to  attend  a  meeting  at 
Lord  George  Gordon's,  in  the  northern  part  of  the 
shire.  The  message  had  reached  him  late  in  the 
afternoon  of  a  stormy  day ;  they  had  set  out  just  in 
the  edge  of  the  gloaming,  and  it  was  late  and  very 
dark  when  they  halted  at  an  inn  for  supper  and  to 
bait  their  ponies.  James  was  for  riding  on,  though 
the  night  was  stormy  and  the  way  very  rough,  but 
John  persuaded  him  that,  by  waiting  till  the  early 
morning,  they  could  make  better  time,  with  their 
horses  fresh. 

After  supper  John's  attention  was  attracted  to  three 
well-dressed  genltemen  who  were  on  their  way  to  the 
stables  to  look  after  their  horses,  an  office  which  most 
gentlemen  of  that  day  left  to  their  gillies;  so  he 
quietly  followed  them;  and,  as  he  overheard  them 
talking  in  low  tones,  the  familiar  gypsy  cant  caught 
his  ear:  "Choar  a  ben  gaugie"  (Rob  the  gentle- 
man). 

"Shan  drom  jaw  vren  beenlightmen"  (It  is  a  bad 
road;  he  will  not  go  before  daylight),  said  another. 

Then  followed  some  whispers,  of  which  John  only 
caught  "feck  a  bar  and  mar  the  gaugie"  (take  a  stone 
and  fell  the  gentleman). 

"Chee  chee  Nawkens;  bing  feck"  (Hold  your 
tongue,  tinklers,  or  the  deil  will  have  you),  said  John, 


220  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

stepping,  out  of  the  darkness,  into  the  circle  of  light 
made  by  the  dim  lantern. 

The  startled  gypsies  drew  their  ever-ready  pon- 
iards; but  John,  with  as  quick  a  hand,  drew  Charlie 
Graham's  snuff-box  from  his  pocket  and  presented 
this,  in  lieu  of  dirk  or  pistol. 

"Feck  fluffan,  Nawkens"  (Take  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
gypsies),  he  said;  "for  ye'll  ken  me  when  I  tell  ye  I 
am  John  Gunn,  gudeman  to  Helen  Faa,  of  the  Loch- 
gellie  band." 

This  put  an  end  at  once  to  hostilities,  for  the  doings 
of  the  Lochgellies  were  among  the  proudest  annals  of 
Little  Egypt. 

After  this  the  Laird,  under  John's  escort,  rode,  not 
only  unhindered,  but  under  the  protection  of  these 
lords  of  the  moors  and  fens.  Janet  often  insisted  that 
James  should  use  more  caution  in  the  matter  of  his 
service  to  the  cause,  warning  him  by  what  she  had 
heard  from  John  of  the  disastrous  ending  of  the  last 
uprising.  It  was  therefore  in  a  sort  of  triumph  that 
he  came  from  Lord  Gordon's,  with  great  news. 

"I  hae  summat  fine  to  tell  ye  now,  Janet,"  he  said 
breathlessly.      "We  hae  news  o'  help  frae  France." 

"But  for  what  will  France  spend  her  money  and 
the  bluid  o'  her  men  to  fight  our  battles?  By  a' 
accounts  they  are  busy  enough  owre  the  water,  wi'out 
meddlin'  wi'  us." 

"It  will  aid  them  abroad  to  harry  the  English  at 
hame;  and  it  will  gie  the  seal  to  the  sacred  truth  that 
kings  hold  sway  by  right  divine,  and  parliaments  and 
ministers  hae  naught  to  do  wi'  makin',  but  only  wi' 
servin'  the  king." 


A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE.  221 

"And  for  this,  will  France  do  the  bluidy  work  o' 
settin'  Prince  Charlie  on  the  throne?"  asked  Janet. 

"It  winna  be  sae  bluidy  as  ye  think.  Gin  the 
Prince's  feet  aince  stand  on  English  ground,  it  will 
gar  a'  men  see  that  he  is  the  only  true  and  lawfu' 
king,  and  the  Highlanders  will  rise  to  a  man,  and 
mony  a  secret  friend  will  declare  himsel'  openly,  baith 
here  and  in  England,  when  they  see  us  sure  o*  suc- 
cess." 

"Hae  ye  nae  mair  than  the  bare  word  o'  the  king 
that  he  will  help  the  Prince  to  his  throne;  for  I  hae 
heard  said  that  the  'word  o'  a  king  is  a  sliddery 
footin'.'" 

"Aye,  we  ken  what  he  will  do.  The  great  and 
glorious  Marechal  Saxe  will  set  sail  wi'  15,000  men; 
and  20,000  mair  will  join  us  on  Scottish  soil,  and,  as 
we  march  south,  it  will  be  like  the  tide  comin*  in." 

"Alack;  Jamie,  maun  ye  gae  south  wi'  the  Prince? 
Why  canna  ye  bide  and  haud  Scotland,  and  leave 
England  to  the  Saxons,"  said  Janet  sadly. 

But  this  glorious  news  was  followed  quickly  by  the 
report  of  the  storm  that  had  scattered  the  squadron. 
"And  upon  the  heels  o'  the  storm,"  added  James, 
sadly  crestfallen  to  bring  such  news  from  the  meeting 
which  was  called  to  select  a  deputation  to  meet  the 
Prince,  "cam'  the  fleet  o'  Sir  John  Norris,  wha  barely 
left  the  Prince  a  chance  o'  return  to  France." 

"Aye,  Jamie,  ye  maun  wait  till  ye  see  how  the 
Prince  will  fare  before  ye  put  your  trust  in  this  aid 
frae  France.  If  they  canna  place  him  on  English 
soil,  they  canna  put  him  on  the  throne,  ye  may  be 
sure." 


222  A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

It  was  a  dreary  night  in  the  latter  part  of  January 
when  the  Laird  of  Stoneywold  rode  back,  with  John 
by  his  side,  from  Kenmuir  Hall,  where  a  conference 
was  held,  after  this  disaster.  It  had  been  a  notable 
gathering;  the  McDonalds,  Glengarry,  and  Keppoch 
were  there,  the  young  Lochiel  of  the  Camerons,  Roy 
Stewart,  Lord  George  Murray,  and  Lord  Lewis  Gor- 
don, with  a  host  of  others  more  or  less  closely  identi- 
fied with  the  cause. 

A  division  of  sentiment  was  apparent;  McDonald 
of  Sleat,  McLeod  of  Skye,  and  Lochiel  were  for  cau- 
tion and  delay,  urging  the  cessation  of  meetings  for 
a  while;  while  Keppoch,  Lord  Lewis  Gordon,  and 
Stoneywold  repudiated,  with  disgust,  this  cautious 
counsel,  and  were  the  more  ardent  because  of  the 
cloud  that  hung  upon  their  prospects. 

In  the  one  party  were  those  who  had  large  estates 
at  risk,  in  the  other  were  the  lesser  lairds  or  those 
who  had  friends  in  exile  from  the  rising  in  1715. 

Muir  returned  from  this  meeting  full  of  misgivings, 
and,  as  they  rode  along,  gave  vent  to  his  feelings. 

"I  am  in  a  sair  strait,  John,"  he  said  moodily. 
"Did  ye  mark  how  McDonald  and  McLeod  grew 
wary ;  and  the  great  chieftains  were  quick  to  tak'  up 
wi'  their  mood." 

"Aye,"  said  John,  "and  it  is  weel,  my  Laird,  to 
haud  your  rein  until  ye  see  which  way  the  hare  will 
rin." 

"Na,  na,  John,"  answered  Stoneywold  quickly. 
"Ye  mistake  me,  I  didna  mean  that.  I  am  for 
Prince  Charlie,  wi'  the  Frenchmen  or  wi'out  them. 
But  we  lack  arms  and  money ;  and  some  lack  courage 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  223 

too.  But  I  am  for  settlin'  this  business  in  our  ain 
way,  wi'out  the  foreigners,  gin  we  can  find  arms  to 
put  in  the  hands  o'  our  brave  Highlanders." 

"Ye  maun  hae  mair  arms  than  hands,  and  that  is  a 
sorry  pass;  for  they  winna  fight  your  battles.  And, 
my  Laird,  it  seems  to  me  that  a  man  may  as  weel 
ken  where  the  road  leads,  before  he  pitches  down 
it  at  a  gallop,"  added  John,  warily  feeling  his 
way. 

"Gin  a  man  will  gie  his  king  a  leal  service  and  win 
honor  for  himsel',  he  maun  tak'  his  life  in  his  hands 
and  trust  to  Providence  and  his  ain  braid  claymore," 
said  Muir. 

"Aye,"  retorted  John,  "I  hae  seen  summat  o'  that 
in  my  day  too,  when  a  man  has  fixit  himsel'  to  be  tossed 
like  a  cud  in  a  cow's  mouth,  and  always  betwixt  the 
grinders.  "There  is  Tullibardine,  wha  let  himsel'  gang 
that  gait;  and  Athole,  wi'  its  braid  acres,  is  in  the 
hands  o'  his  younger  brother.  Glenbucket  has  had  an 
owrelang  stay  in  France,  and  there  is  Kenmure  in  his 
grave,  and  Winton  in  the  Tower  o'  London  to-day. 
I'm  thinkin',  my  Laird,  that  ye  winna  gang  amiss,  gin 
ye  tak'  counsel  wi'  the  Leddy  Janet  anent  this  business 
and  hear  what  she  maun  say.  Do  ye  mind  how  the 
Laird  o'  Darnick  cam'  hame  to  join  his  friend  Wat 
Scott;  but  his  Leddy  caged  him  in  the  donjon,  to 
remain,  'till  I  tell  thee  thou'rt  wanted  by  James  Stewart 
or  Wat  Scott ;'  and,  when  frae  Darnick  towers  she  saw 
which  wad  win  the  day,  'Now,'  she  said,  'thou  know- 
est  which  party  to  fight  for' ;  and  the  fendy  Leddy 
set  her  Laird  in  the  way  to  win  glory  and  haud  his 
lands  too.     It  is  a  braw  thing  to  ken  whan  the  par- 


224  A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

ritch  is  cooked,  and  not  dip  in  the  pot  and  lift  out  a 
raw  mess." 

James  smiled  at  John's  fendy  counsel;  "I  hae  had 
a  commission  of  factory  drawn  for  the  Leddy  Janet, 
and  she  can  hold  and  lease  the  estate  of  Stoneywold 
for  her  ain  use.  But  my  sword  I  maun  gie,  wi'  my 
ain  hand,  to  the  cause  that  is  right  and  true." 

Then  John  saw  that,  with  the  Laird,  motives  of 
prudence  had  little  weight;  for  his  purpose  had  its 
root  in  principles  which  he  held  sacred,  and  in  honor, 
which  was  not  to  be  weighed  in  the  balance  with  self- 
interest. 

Subsequent  councils  of  war,  if  so  they  might  be 
called,  were  troublous  affairs;  the  general  sentiment 
being  averse  to  any  movement  without  substantial  aid 
from  France,  while  a  few  were  eager  to  cast  the  die, 
trusting  to  themselves  alone  and  to  the  justice  of 
their  cause. 

Now,  when  darkness  seemed  to  brood  over  the 
cause,  Janet  exerted  herself  to  cheer  James. 

"Why  canna  ye  send  a  trusty  messenger  to  France, 
Jamie,  and  not  wait  for  the  tidin's  that  come  by  wind 
and  wave." 

"Ill  news  travels  fast  enough,  and  there  seems 
naught  but  that  kind  in  the  wind  just  now,"  answered 
James,  in  despondent  mood. 

Nevertheless  he  came  back  from  their  next  meet- 
ing, cheered  by  the  result  of  this  suggestion. 

"We  hae  sendit  Murray  o'  Broughton,  as  messen- 
ger, to  France,  to  confer  wi'  the  Prince  and  tell  him 
how  eagerly  we  wait  his  comin',"  he  said  more  hope- 
fully. 


A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE.  225 

"Aye,  Jamie,  and  it  will  gar  him  see  that  ye  are  in 
earnest,  and  it  will  stir  the  French  king  to  gie  ye 
aid,"  answered  Janet. 

In  the  early  spring  their  messenger  returned. 

"And  what  news  does  he  bring,  Jamie?"  asked 
Janet,  eager,  for  more  reasons  than  one,  to  know  how 
near  the  din  of  war  might  be. 

"The  Prince  is  already  on  his  way,  aboard  a  French 
brig,  which  will  convoy  our  privateer  Elizabeth,"  said 
James,  breathless  with  the  astounding  news. 

"And  how  many  Frenchmen  does  he  bring  wi' 
him?"  asked  Janet. 

"He  hasna  a  single  ane,  but  only  the  seven  gentle- 
men wha  hae  shared  his  exile ;  and  they  are  English, 
Scotch,  and  Irish,"  answered  James. 

"They  may  be  that;  but  there  arena  mony  o' 
each,"  answered  Janet,  smiling  at  the  brave  array. 
"But  what  say  Lord  Lewis  and  the  rest  o'  our  friends 
to  this  news?" 

"Alack,  they  arena  merry  owre  it,"  answered 
James;  "and  wad  hae  Murray  (wham  I  do  not  alto- 
gether trust),  back  to  the  Prince  to  persuade  him  that 
the  time  is  not  ripe." 

"And  that  wad  be  nae  mair  than  the  truth,"  replied 
Janet.  "Ye  ken  yoursel',  Jamie,  that  the  greater 
lairds  are  shy  o'  your  gatherings;  and  they  that  do 
come  arena  at  ane." 

This  was  true  enough;  for,  when  this  return  mis- 
sion was  proposed,  Murray  replied  that  he  had  ex- 
hausted all  arguments  to  hinder  the  Prince  from  set- 
ting sail,  and  to  no  purpose;  then  the  discussion  waxed 
warm. 


226  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"It  is  simply  to  put  all  our  estates  at  forfeit  and 
our  necks  in  the  noose,  to  let  this  go  on,"  said  Mc- 
Donald of  Clanranald. 

His  cousin  of  Sleat,  who  loved  to  be  called  "Lord 
of  the  Isles,"  had  gone  back  to  his  western  home, 
along  with  McLeod  of  Skye. 

"It  is  nae  mair  a  noose  for  a  brave  man's  neck  than 
is  every  battle  for  the  right,"  said  old  Keppoch. 
"We  may  win  or  we  may  lose,  God  kens;  but  we  are 
wi'  the  right." 

"And  Ave  canna  expect  the  Prince  to  put  his  life  in 
danger,  gin  we,  wha  owe  him  service,  are  sae  fendy 
o'  the  risk  to  oursel's,"  said  Lord  Lewis  Gordon. 

"And  for  my  part,"  said  Stoneywold,  "my  heart 
gaes  out  wi'  hope  and  faith  in  the  star  o'  destiny 
which  leads  the  steps  o'  Prince  Charlie,  as  the  star  o* 
Bethlehem  led  the  wise  men  o'  the  East." 

"Aye,"  said  McDonald,  "the  Laird  o'  Stoneywold 
hasna  the  years  to  remember  that  the  star  o'  the 
Stuart's  has  had  ither  risin's  which  set  in  bluid,  and 
led  them  wha  followed  it  to  exile.  It  doesna  shine  sae 
fair  as  in  17 15,  and  there  isna  sic  a  cry  wi'  which  to 
rally  the  clans  as  Montrose,  a  hundred  years  syne, 
could  muster  them  wi',  'Death  to  the  Campbells.'  I 
want  only  a  fair  prospect  o'  winnin',  such  as  the  aid 
o'  France  will  gie  us,  and  then  am  I  heart  and  soul 
for  raisin'  the  standard  o'  the  house  o'  Stuart." 

"Ye  hae  traveled  through  Duncan  Forbes's  borders, 
and  hae  caught  the  tone  o'  his  talk.  But  he  can 
weel  afford  to  support  the  Elector,  wha  has  made  him 
Lord  President  and  gien  him  authority  enough  to  hang 
every  Jacobite  in   Scotland ;  but  there  is  nae   sic  a. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  227 

place  waitin'  for  you,  Clanranald,"  said  Gordon  bit- 
terly. 

"I  dinna  covet  ony  sic  authority  to  hang  men;  for 
we  mete  out  punishment  to  the  foes  o'  our  house  wi' 
the  claymore,  and  not  wi'  hemp,"  replied  the  western 
chief  sullenly. 

"I  trust  we  arena  harborin'  in  our  midst  the  match 
to  that  treacherous  auld  barbarian,  Lovat;  wha  is 
ready,  wi'  ane  breath,  to  counsel  a  hempen  cord  for 
his  neighbor  Duncan  Forbes,  and,  wi'  the  next,  to 
salute  him  as  Lord  President,  and  curry  favor  wi' 
him,"  said  Stoneywold,  looking  toward  Clanranald 
and  Lochiel,  who  were  talking,  in  whispers,  apart  from 
the  others. 

"What  is  that?"  said  Lochiel,  stepping  across  to 
Stoneywold.     "Wha  is  a  traitor?" 

"Lord  Lovat  and  a'  wha,  like  him,  blaw  hot  and 
cold,  be  they  frae  east  or  west,"  answered  Muir 
firmly. 

"I'll  let  nae  man  ca'  me  traitor!"  retorted  Lochiel. 

"And  I  winna  hesitate  to  ca'  ony  man  a  traitor, 
wha  shows  himsel'  such,"  answered  Muir. 

"You  maun  answer  to  me  for  this,  my  Laird!"  said 
Lochiel,  hotly. 

"Hold,  hold,  my  Lairds!"  said  Lord  Murray. 
"We  arena  met  for  brawls,  but  for  counsel  and  help. 
The  Laird  o'  Stoneywold  hasna  ca'd  ye  a  traitor, 
Lochiel.     Why  wad  ye  force  a  quarrel?" 

"I  wad  fain  hear  that  frae  the  lips  o'  the  Laird 
himsel',"  answered  the  angry  chieftain. 

"I  say  again,"  said  Muir,  "that  Lovat  is  a  black- 
hearted  villain,  wha  declares  for  baith  sides;  and  I 


228  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

say  that  Lochiel  tak's  a  strange  way  to  help  a  cause, 
when  he  counsels  to  tak'  nae  step  to  push  it  forward. 
I  canna  believe  a  Cameron  fause,  and  I  ken  that  they 
are  brave;   then  what  does  Lochiel  mean?" 

"I  mean  this,"  answered  the  young  chieftain,  "I  am 
sae  leal  to  the  Prince  that  I  winna  help  to  ruin  him 
by  feckless  counsels.  There  winna  be  ony  sic  upris- 
in'  as  ye  hope  for,  and  ye  are  beguilin'  the  Prince's 
feet  into  the  snare  which  is  spread  for  them.  That  is 
what  I  mean." 

The  waning  ardor  of  the  Jacobites  was  roused  by 
the  news  that  the  Prince,  having  borrowed  ^"Sooo 
and  secured  1500  firelocks  and  1800  broadswords, 
had  set  sail,  with  his  suite  of  three  Scotchmen,  two 
Irishmen,  and  two  Englishmen,  on  June  22,  on  board 
the  Elizabeth,  with  the  Doutelle  as  convoy. 

The  airy  confidence  of  this  expedition  awoke  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  devotees  and  the  scorn  of  the  wav- 
ering. 

"It  will  rouse  the  Highlands  to  a  man, "  said  old 
Keppoch ;  "for  they  love  a  man  wha  can  do  and 
dare." 

"What  say  you,  Lord  George,"  said  Lochiel,  turn- 
ing to  Murray,  who  was  a  recognized  leader  in  their 
councils. 

"I  fear  me  the  day  for  such  methods  of  warfare  are 
over,"  answered  Lord  Murray.  "We  must  remem- 
ber that  we  are  to  meet  disciplined  armies,  and  we 
cannot  do  it  without  men  and  means.  The  larger 
chiefs,  with  the  greater  following,  will  hold  aloof,  and 
we  can  count  on  little  from  the  Lowlands  and  Eng- 
land." 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  229 

"Can  we  do  less  than  the  Prince,  who  is  ready  to 
risk  all?"  said  Muir.  "Courage  begets  courage. 
Can  we  not  reckon  that  this  will  count  for  something, 
my  Lord ;  for  my  part,  this  news  stirs  my  blood  like 
the  slogan." 

"He  who  has  lost  all,  does  not  take  much  risk  on 
the  next  venture,  my  Laird  o'  Stoneywold.  Are  you 
willin',  at  the  echo  o'  a  few  brave  words,  to  hazard 
the  fate  o'  your  Leddy  and  bairns  and  fine  estate  on 
the  chances  o'  war,  wi*  such  a  nucleus  for  an  army?" 
answered  Lord  Murray. 

"For  my  part,  no  man  can  question  the  loyalty  o' 
our  house,  but  I  winna  rush  to  ruin  mysel,'  nor  let 
my  Prince  be  led  on  to  his  undoin'.  Our  cause  will 
prevail;  but  we  must  make  ready  like  sane  men  to 
meet  our  foe,"  said  Lochiel. 

What  was  there  to  say  in  answer  to  this?  but  what 
was  there  to  do,  save  wait  for  the  turn  of  events. 
Soon  there  came  conflicting  rumors  of  the  affair  off 
Lizard  Point,  on  July  9,  when  Captain  Brett,  with 
the  Lion,  attacked  the  rebel  vessels.  The  Lion  had 
to  put  back  to  port  for  repairs,  and  many  of  her  crew 
asserted  that  the  Doutelle  was  in  far  worse  case,  and 
would  have  good  luck  if  she  made  her  way  back  to 
France.  The  half-hearted  looked  on  this  as  the  final 
decree  of  fate,  and  the  most  sanguine  could  scarce 
pluck  any  hope  from  such  disaster. 

When  their  fears  had  well-nigh  gotten  the  better  of 
their  hopes,  there  came  a  secret  messenger,  bearing 
through  all  the  clans,  on  his  ride  from  the  west, 
the  news  that  the  Prince  with  his  conglomerate 
suite  had  landed,    on  July  23,   on  the   little  isle  of 


230  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

Eriskay,  on  the  western  edge  of  the  gulf  of  the 
Hebrides. 

It  was  a  barren  bit  of  land,  a  bare  foothold  for  the 
Prince,  who  came  in  a  gloomy  season,  when  drench- 
ing rain  and  thick  mist  gave  but  a  dreary  welcome  to 
one  who  had  lived  in  the  marble  halls  of  Italy. 

He  was  lodged  in  the  tacksman's  hut,  distinguished 
from  the  others  only  in  size.  In  common  with  the 
rest,  it  had  a  peat  fire  in  the  corner,  with  a  hole  in  the 
roof  for  the  escape  of  the  surplus  smoke. 

All  this,  the  messenger  from  Sir  John  McDonald 
told  the  assemblage  of  gentlemen  hastily  summoned  at 
Lord  Lewis  Gordon's  to  hear  the  news. 

"And  how  does  the  Prince  bear  himsel'?"  asked 
Stoneywold,  when  the  silence  which  followed  the  an- 
nouncement had  become  ominous. 

"Aweel,  ye  maun  better  spier  hoo  he  tholes  the 
uncanny  weather  and  the  reek  o'  the  peat,  whilk  is 
new  to  his  nostrils.  He  is  our  ain  king,  mayhap; 
but  he  isna  Hieland  born  nor  bred;  for  the  puir  lad- 
die is  weel-nigh  chokit  to  death  wi'  the  reek.  And 
whiles  he  bides  oot  in  the  rain,  wi'  the  water  tricklin' 
frae  his  head,  and  whiles  he  bides  in  the  hut,  till  the 
tears  rin  frae  his  e'en;  but  he  can  thole  neither  rain 
nor  reek  sair  lang.  And  auld  Angus  McDonald,  wi' 
wham  he  bides,  glunches  owre  him,  and  says  to  me: 
'What  a  plague  ails  yon  fellow  that  he  winna  sit  nor 
stand  still,  and  canna  bide  but  nor  ben?'  " 

"But  does  he  bear  himsel'  brawlie,  in  sic  dull 
company  and  donsie  weather?"  said  Stoneywold, 
seeking  to  elicit  a  gleam  of  brightness  for  this  dull 
picture. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  231 

"Ah!  he  is  a  braw  laddie,"  answered  the  McDon- 
ald. "What  he  broods  owre  wha  kens,  save  those 
wha  ken  the  thochts  o'  kings;  but  he  bears  himsel' 
right  bonnily.  Whiles  he  broods,  and  then  will  whistle 
like  a  laverock,  to  a  tune  blither  than  a  bagpipe;  but 
he  is  unco  restless  and  spiers  owre  the  water,  as  though 
he  were  waitin'  for  ane  wha  is  lang  o'  comin'." 

At  this  conference  it  was  decided  to  send  Clan- 
ranald's  brother,  McDonald  of  Boisdale,  to  the  Prince; 
and  with  him  went  John  Gunn,  Stoneywold  remain- 
ing at  home,  where  stanch  friends  were  needed  to 
counteract  the  influence  of  the  wavering  ones. 

McDonald  came  to  the  Prince,  loyal  in  heart,  but 
firm  in  the  conviction  that  it  was  madness  to  per- 
sist. 

"What  has  induced  your  Highness  to  put  your  per- 
son in  such  peril  and  run  such  grave  risks  as  are 
involved  in  a  campaign  without  men  or  means?"  was 
his  salutation.  "We,  to  whom  your  cause  and  person 
are  dear,  cannot  bear  to  think  of  the  issue  of  such  a 
venture." 

"I  am  surprised  at  such  a  salutation  from  a  faithful 
friend  of  my  house,"  answered  the  Prince  coldly. 
"I  follow  the  star  of  destiny,  which  leads  me  on  to 
regain  the  throne  of  my  fathers,  and,  on  Scottish  soil, 
I  had  looked  to  find  unflinching  loyalty." 

"But  how  will  your  Highness  wage  war  without 
men?"  answered  McDonald,  taking  no  note  of  the 
implied  reproach. 

"I  will  trust  to  my  faithful  Highlanders,"  replied 
the  Prince  haughtily. 

"But  can  your  Highness  name  me  a  chief  who  will 


232  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

rally  to  your  standard,  without  the  aid  of  France?" 
said  McDonald. 

"There  are  my  loyal  subjects  in  Skye,  McDonald 
of  Sleat  and  the  Lord  of  McLeod,"  answered  the 
Prince. 

"I  can  assure  your  Highness  that  they  have  de- 
clared themselves  on  the  other  side,"  replied  Mc- 
Donald. 

"Then  have  I  naught  to  do  with  men ;  they  may 
come  or  they  may  go,  I  follow  the  star  of  my  des- 
tiny," answered  the  Prince. 

John  Gunn,  in  detailing  the  scene  to  Stoneywold, 
said,  "McDonald  might  hae  spared  his  breath  for  a 
better  use ;  for  the  Prince  was  sae  sicker  o'  his  trusty 
Highlanders  that  he  recked  not  o'  ane  and  anither 
wha  had  forgotten  the  faith  o'  their  fathers,  and 
declared  that  for  ane  chief  wha  failed  him  there  wad 
rise  up  a  hunder  men  wha  wad  rin  to  fight  for  him." 

And  McDonald  came  back  with  a  dim  superstition 
that  the  destiny,  which,  like  a  halo,  surrounded  the 
Prince,  was  not  wholly  a  figment  of  his  imagination. 

The  next  visitor  to  the  Prince  was  the  chief  of 
Clanranald,  who  found  him  not  in  the  tacksman's  hut 
on  Eriskay,  but  on  board  the  Dontelle  at  anchor  in 
Loch  Na  Nuagh,  off  Clanranald's  country.  Under 
the  awning  which  covered  the  deck  a  repast  was 
spread,  and  the  Prince,  in  noble  and  gracious  fashion, 
received  his  distinguished  visitors.  Clanranald  and 
his  cousin  of  Kinloch-Moidart,  who  accompanied 
him,  were  firm  in  their  discouragement  of  the  under- 
taking. 

"Does  your  Highness  appreciate  the  thorough  mili- 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  233 

tary  preparation  of  England,  with  her  army  of 
veterans  drilled  and  well  accoutered?"  said  Clan- 
ranald. 

"My  training,  gentlemen,  in  foreign  parts,  has  led 
me  to  know  as  much,  or  more  of  this,  than  it  has 
fallen  to  your  lot  to  see.  The  armies  of  England  are 
not  invincible,  I  can  assure  you,"  answered  the 
Prince. 

"But  your  Highness  has  not  seen  the  want  of  dis- 
cipline which  our  men  show  on  the  field.  We  shall 
require  time  not  only  to  gather,  but  also  to  drill  our 
men,"  said  the  chief.  "We  are  in  want  of  arms,  too, 
and  everything  that  goes  to  make  up  preparation  for 
war. ' ' 

"I  have  brought  you  arms.  Would  God  I  had 
brought  you  the  desire  to  take  them  up,"  said  the 
Prince. 

"Is  your  Highness  aware  that  our  friends  are 
divided,  by  reason  of  your  coming  among  us  unaware; 
that  an  urgent  demand  was  made  that  you  should 
return,  until  the  time  was  ripe  for  rising?"  said 
Kinloch-Moidart. 

"I  was  led  to  believe  that  I  should  find,  at  any 
hour,  my  loyal  men  of  Scotland  ready  to  cast  off  the 
yoke  of  the  oppressor,  and  I  am  fain  to  think  better 
of  your  hearts  than  of  your  tongues,  gentlemen.  Des- 
tiny knows  no  hour,  but  marches  on  without  let  or 
hindrance  from  the  dull  minutes  which  measure  the 
life  of  those  who  toil  like  slaves  under  the  master's 
lash,"  answered  the  Prince. 

"Many  were  greatly  disheartened,  your  Highness, 
by  the  promised  aid  from  France,  which,  not  being 


234  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

forthcoming,  has  made  them  feel  that  they  are  left  to 
bear  an  undue  burden,"  said  Clanranald. 

"It  is  well  that  I  shall  owe  the  glory  of  winning  my 
throne  to  my  own  loyal  Scots,  rather  than  to  foreign 
aid.  I  can  trust  to  convincing  you,  gentlemen,  that  I 
am  led  by  destiny,  which  nothing  can  withstand. 
The  divine  right  to  the  throne  which  is  mine,  will 
bring  to  my  side  the  power  to  obtain  it." 

While  this  debate  went  on  young  Ranald  McDon- 
ald listened,  with  glowing  eyes,  not  daring  to  join  in 
it  with  words.  The  Prince  caught  his  eye,  aglow 
with  fervor,  and  turned  to  the  stripling  with  the  Mat- 
tering appeal: 

"Will  you  not  assist  me,  sir?" 

"I  will,  your  Highness,  wi'  my  last  drap  o'  bluid!" 
responded  the  young  Highlander,  flushing  red. 

"You  see,  gentlemen,  how  the  spark  kindles  in  the 
breast  which  has  not  learned  the  cold  maxims  of 
worldly  caution,"  said  the  Prince. 

The  two  chiefs  stood  abashed,  for  a  moment,  then, 
catching  the  infection,  they  pledged  themselves  by  a 
like  vow;  and,  in  token  of  their  loyalty,  invited  the 
Prince  to  land;  and  Clanranald  assigned  him  a  body- 
guard from  his  clan. 

Immediately  upon  the  landing  of  the  Prince  a  sum- 
mons was  sent  to  the  two  great  Skye  chieftains,  which 
elicited  a  flat  refusal,  shedding  gloom  over  the  hearts 
of  his  followers,  but  in  no  wise  cooling  the  ardor  of 
the  Prince's  dauntless  hope. 

Sunshine  and  shadow,  in  swift  alternation,  flickered 
across  the  path  of  this  young  heir  of  the  house  of 
Stuart  on  his  way  to  the  throne,  and  fell  athwart  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  235 

hearts  of  his  followers;  but  left  him,  always,  with  a 
changeless  faith  and  purpose. 

A  gleam  of  sunshine  followed  the  recusancy  of  the 
island  chieftains.  Donald  Cameron,  the  "young 
Lochiel"  as  he  was  called,  came  to  persuade  the 
Prince  that  there  was  every  reason  why  he  should 
abandon  the  attempt;  but,  when  reason  and  destiny 
lock  antlers,  there  can  be  but  one  issue  to  the  strug- 
gle; and  Lochiel,  too,  gave  in  his  adherence. 

Messengers  were  at  once  sent  out  to  all  the  clans, 
and  the  Prince  began  his  march  westward  from  Clan- 
ranald's  county  to  Kinloch-Moidart,  thence  to  Glen- 
adale,  where  Gordon  of  Glenbucket  joined  him. 

The  clans  were  summoned  to  meet  at  Glenfinnan, 
near  the  head  of  Loch  Eil  and  Loch  Shiel,  on 
August  19. 

"We  cam'  there  about  noon,"  said  John,  describ- 
ing the  scene  to  Stoneywold,  "and  there  were  scarce 
fifty  men,  and  they  all  McDonalds;  wha  are  guid 
men  and  true,  but  unco  wild.  Barrin*  them,  the  glen 
was  empty,  save  some  bairns  frae  the  hamlet  near  by, 
wha  gowked  and  girned  on  the  Prince,  and  were  an 
unkempt  pack  o'  gomerils.  But  the  bonnie  young 
Prince  rode  gayly  up  and  down  the  glen,  as  though 
a'  Scotland  were  his,  wi'  nane  to  dispute  it  wi'  him. 
But  whan  our  hearts  were  nigh  saft  as  a  haggis,  we 
were*  ware  o'  a  piper  wha  piped  the  pibroch,  that  it 
was  guid  to  listen  to  it,  and,  alang  the  crest  o'  the 
hill,  we  saw,  against  the  sky,  a  braw  host  o'  Highland 
men,  800  strong,  and  down  the  glen  they  cam',  rushin' 
and  shoutin'  the  slogan  o'  the  Camerons,  wi*  the 
douce  young  Lochiel  at  their  head.     Aye,  but  it  was 


236  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

a  bonnie  sight,  to  gladden  the  e'en  and  stir  the  bluid 
o'  a  man  wha  loves  the  gay  plaids  o'  the  Highland 
men.  And,  before  nightfall,  there  were  nigh  twa 
thousand  men  in  Glenfinnan.  And,  gin  ye  could  hae 
seen  auld  Tullibardine  o*  Athole  bear  the  standard  o' 
the  Prince,  while  the  proclamation  was  bein'  read,  it 
wad  hae  dune  your  heart  guid.  Our  gracious  King, 
James  VIII.,  set  a'  matters  right  that  were  gane 
wrang,  in  his  lang  absence  frae  the  country,  and  made 
the  bonnie  Prince  Charlie  his  regent,  wi'  a'  needed 
power  to  regain  the  throne.  Then  our  guid  Prince 
proclaimed  free  forgiveness  to  a'  wha  had  taen  arms 
under  the  Elector,  and  made  guid  a'  the  back 
pay  to  his  officers  and  men,  baith  in  army  and 
navy. 

"The  next  day  we  marched  on  for  Fort  William, 
and  we  met  the  foe  and  won  our  first  victory,  at 
Highbridge.  It  was  a  sma'  skirmish,  ye  may  say,  a 
mere  straw;  but  it  garred  the  wind  blaw  frae  the  right 
airt;  for  it  was  the  report  o'  this  that  made  the  Saxon 
General  Cope,  when  he  met  us  at  Corryarick  Pass, 
turn  frae  the  Highland  road,  and  mak'  his  way,  wi' 
due  speed,  to  Inverness.  He  had  lost  his  likin'  for 
the  hills  and  the  scent  o'  the  heather,  and  the  peat- 
reek  garred  him  shiver.  The  braes  and  glens  rang 
wi'  the  slogan  o'  the  clans,  when  our  scouts  brought 
word  that  the  Saxons  had  refused  the  road  up  the  pass 
arid  taen  their  way  to  the  pent-house  o'  Inverness. 
'They  are  aye  fond  o'  a  warm  bed  and  a  tight  roof 
owre  their  heads,'  said  Lochiel.  'Aye,  the  peat-reek 
gars  them  snivel  save  when  they  get  it  in  usque- 
baugh,'  said  Clanranald.     But  the    Prince  aye  said 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  237 

naething,  but  smiled  and  bid  them  move  on  to  Holy- 
rood." 

The  next  news  was  of  the  march  to  Perth,  with 
none  to  dispute  their  way,  followed  by  the  inspiriting 
tidings  of  the  capture  of  this  ancient  residence  of  the 
Scottish  monarchs. 

Just  one  hundred  years  ago,  it  had  been  seized  by 
Montrose,  and,  in  the  late  uprising,  by  the  Earl  of 
Mar.  Did  there  cross  the  young  Prince's  mind  a 
thought  of  how  ill-starred  had  been  the  fate  of  the 
previous  captors  of  the  "Fair  City,"  or  how,  three 
centuries  ago,  it  had  become  famous  as  the  scene  of 
the  murder  of  one  of  the  wisest  and  best  of  Scotland's 
kings,  patriot  and  poet?  But '  'wha  kens  the  thoughts 
o'  kings." 

Now  all  went  merrily;  the  Highlanders  in  their 
picturesque  garb,  led  by  the  Prince  clad  in  the 
national  costume  richly  bedecked  with  gold  lace,  such 
as  was  never  seen  on  Highland  costume,  drew  crowds 
of  sightseers,  as  to  a  show. 

But  they  were  to  pay  the  piper;  for  the  Prince, 
who  entered  Perth  with  one  guinea  in  his  pocket,  left 
it  with  ^500  in  hand. 

At  Perth  the  Laird  of  Stoneywold  was  summoned 
to  attend  the  Prince.  Janet  waited  impatiently  for 
his  return,  wondering  whether  he  would  come  back, 
or  march  southward  with  the  army. 

"What  news,  Jamie?"  she  said,  bravely  enough  so 
far  as  outward  sign  went. 

"Ah!  he  is  a  bonnie  Prince,  my  Janet;  and 
weel  may  we  gie  him  our  service,"  began  Stoney- 
wold. 


238  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"Aye,  aye,  Jamie,  I  ken  that;  but  what  has  he  set 
ye  to  do?"  broke  in  Janet. 

"Ah!  that  is  not  sae  bonnie.  I  hae  commission, 
along  wi'  Lord  Lewis  Gordon,  to  raise  men  in  the 
shire  o'  Aberdeen,  and  circumvent  the  plans  o'  Duncan 
Forbes  o'  Culloden,  wha  seeks  to  win  awa'  the  clans 
and  hinder  the  wark  o'  recruitin',"  answered  Muir. 

"Ah!  now  I  will  ca'  him  a  bonnie  Prince,"  said 
Janet,  with  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 

"It  suits  me  ill  to  be  tied  down  to  sic  tame  business; 
but  whan  I  plead  to  gae  south  wi'  him  he  answered 
me:  'Ye  can  tell  us  o'  your  victory  owre  Cope's  army 
in  our  Palace  o'  Holyrood,  my  Laird;  and  your 
reward  shall  equal  your  service  and  high  loyalty;' 
and  I  was  fain  to  be  content." 

"I  ca'  that  a  bonnie  Prince;  and  will  gladly  hear 
more  o'  the  takin'  o'  Perth,  now,  Jamie,"  answered 
Janet. 

"Aweel,  I  saw  naething  o'  this  but  a  braw  set  o' 
Highland  laddies  march  into  the  town,  and  a'  men 
speakin'  them  fair.  And  the  day  was  a  fine  sight 
when  Jennie  Cameron  rode  into  the  camp  at  the  head 
o'  twa  hundred  and  fifty  claymores.  She  was  on  a 
bay  geldin'  decked  in  green  trappin's  and  trimmed 
wi'  gold.  Her  hair  hung  down  her  back,  clasped  wi' 
twa  silver  buckles,  and  she  had  on  a  velvet  cap  wi' 
scarlet  feathers.  In  her  hand  she  carried  a  drawn 
sword,  and  her  men  cam'  on  behind  singin' 

"  Miss  Jenny  Cameron 
She  pit  her  belt  and  hanger  on 
And  awa'  to  bonnie  Prince  Charlie. 

And  the  Prince  gave  her  a  commission  of  Colonel." 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  239 

"Jennie  Cameron  may  awa,'  but  I  am  sair  happy  to 
ken  that  my  Jamie  can  serve  the  cause  o'  Prince 
Charlie  in  Aberdeen,"  said  Janet;  to  which  James 
was  not  unkind  enough  to  reply  that  he  wished  he 
could  march  with  Prince  Charlie. 

On  September  11  the  Prince  set  out,  in  great  state, 
from  Perth  on  his  southward  march.  Shunning  the 
passage  of  the  Firth  of  Forth  and  also  the  bridge  near 
Stirling  Castle,  which  might  be  taxed  with  a  toll  that 
he  did  not  care  to  pay  and  could  not  well  refuse; 
they  bore  to  the  westward  and  around  the  fords  of 
Frew.  The  only  sign  of  an  enemy  was  the  dragoons 
of  Colonel  Gardiner,  who  watched  their  crossing  and 
fell  back  before  the  victorious  host. 

Past  Bannockburn,  with  its  glorious  memories,  on 
through  Falkirk  and  Linlithgow  to  Edinburgh,  they 
pressed  forward,  with  flying  banners;  there  the  Prince 
promised  he  would  hold  court  in  Holyrood,  after  a 
royal  fashion. 

What  need  to  dwell  upon  the  easy  capture  of  the 
ancient  city.  It  was  defenseless,  except  the  castle; 
and  the  counsels  of  the  authorities  were  vacillating 
and  divided.  Incompetent  civilians  made  vain  mili- 
tary preparations  for  defense,  while  the  terror-stricken 
magistrates  and  people  watched,  with  longing  eyes, 
for  the  sails  of  the  fleet  which  was  to  bring  General 
Cope's  army  from  the  north.  The  clang  of  the  fire 
bells  summoned  the  alarmed  citizens  to  a  town  meet- 
ing, and  they  ran  hither  and  thither,  not  knowing 
what  the  summons  meant,  nor  where  to  gather,  nor 
what  was  the  business  on  hand.  When  they  were 
come  together,  some  clamored  for  immediate  surren- 


240  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

der,  and  a  few  for  stern  resistance.  Then  suddenly 
the  meeting  was  flooded  with  the  manifestoes  of  the 
Prince,  and  the  clamor  for  surrender  grew  beyond 
control,  and  the  magistrates  beat  a  hasty  retreat  from 
their  own  townhall. 

A  deputation  of  citizens  was  formed  to  obtain  terms 
of  capitulation  from  the  Prince,  and,  as  a  party  of 
Highlanders  under  Lochiel,  who  were  sent  to  blow  up 
one  of  the  gates,  saw  the  Nether  Bow  Port  open  for 
the  exit  of  the  coach  carrying  the  deputation,  they 
slipped  in,  displaced  the  civil  guard,  and  themselves 
mounted  guard  in  the  interest  of  His  Royal  Highness 
Charles  Edward,  without  waste  of  powder  or  of 
blood. 

On  the  next  morning,  in  gay  attire,  with  waving 
banners  and  fine  old  Scotch  martial  music,  the  Prince 
entered  the  city  and  trod  the  halls  of  Holyrood, 
which,  for  more  than  threescore  years,  had  not  echoed 
to  the  footsteps  of  a  Stuart. 

What  more  was  needed  to  set  the  seal  to  the  subtle 
creed  of  the  divine  right  of  kings  and  the  destiny 
of  the  Stuarts,  by  which  the  feet  of  this  Prince  had 
been  set  in  the  palace  of  his  fathers. 

From  the  Old  Cross  of  Edinburgh,  where,  from 
immemorial  times,  the  Scottish  kings  were  wont  to 
proclaim  royal  edicts  "in  glorious  trumpet  clang," 
with  heraldic  splendor  and  in  presence  of  a  mighty 
multitude,  the  Prince  caused  the  edict  of  King  James 
and  his  own  proclamation  of  amnesty  and  largess  to 
be  read  again. 

Perchance  this  gallant  youth  had  never  heard  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  241 

tale  of  how,  more  than  two  hundred  years  before, 
when  a  King  of  Scotland  undertook  to  play  the  part 
of  knight  errant  to  a  Queen  of  France,  and,  as  her 
bounden  champion,  she  laid  it  on  him  to  march,  for 
her  sake,  three  miles  on  English  ground,  and  he 
had  assembled  one  hundred  thousand  men  to  do  her 
bidding;  there  appeared  at  dead  of  night,  at  the  Old 
Cross,  a  ghostly  herald,  in  form  and  fashion  like  a 
herald  of  the  Scottish  Kings,  who  called  a  muster- 
roll  of  the  Scots  gentry  to  meet  his  master  in  the  other 
world.  Happily  there  was  one  awake,  who  heard  the 
ghostly  summons,  and  took  appeal  therefrom  to  the 
mercy  of  God;  and  all,  save  he,  made  answer,  on  the 
fatal  field  of  Flodden,  with  their  lives. 

But  the  shadows  of  the  past  were  not  upon  this 
youth. 

In  the  meantime,  General  Cope  with  his  army  had 
arrived  by  the  sea,  landed  at  Dunbar,  and  re-enforced 
by  Gardiner's  dragoons  and  the  refugees  from  the 
city,  was  marching  on  Edinburgh. 

The  Highlanders  were  eager  to  meet  the  foe,  un- 
disciplined as  they  were,  many  of  them  armed  only 
with  axes,  scythes,  or  any  available  tool.  Clad  almost 
in  rags,  they  were  full  of  enthusiasm. 

On  September  21st,  at  the  village  of  Prestonpans, 
Cope  halted  to  await  the  attack  of  the  Highlanders. 
He  posted  his  troops  among  the  houses,  using  the  stone 
walls  of  their  enclosures  as  breastworks,  having  his 
front  toward  a  broad  morass  which  lay  between  him 
and  his  foe.  This  bog  could  be  crossed  only  by  a 
line  of    stepping-stones,   which   were  exposed    to  a 


242  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

murderous  fire.  As  the  twilight  fell,  the  English 
commander  settle!  himself  securely  for  the  night,  pre- 
pared for  the  attack  on  the  morrow. 

Put  the  situation  offered  an  opportunity  for  the 
favorite  tactics  of  the  Highlanders,  a  night  march  and 
a  surprise.  By  a  long  detour  to  the  eastward  they 
could  reach  a  point  where  the  bog  narrowed  into  a 
deep  ravine,  down  which  the  gathered  waters  of  the 
morass  clattered  noisily;  here  they  could  cross  and 
fall  on  the  left  and  rear  of  their  unsuspecting  foe. 

In  this  action  John  Gunn  took  part,  having  arrived 
in  the  camp,  bearing  dispatches  from  Lord  Lewis 
Gordon,  on  the  eve  of  the  battle. 

"I  cam'  at  nigh  midnight  to  the  place  where,  by  a' 
accounts,  I  should  hae  found  our  army,"  he  said  to 
the  gathering  of  gentlemen,  to  whom,  on  his  return, 
he  recounted  the  affair;  "but  a'  was  sae  still  that, 
though  the  night  was  clear,  I  wadna  hae  kenned  I  was 
in  the  midst  o'  an  army,  hadna  I  met  a  band  o'  horse- 
men. I  asked  them  to  lead  me  to  the  Prince,  and, 
whan  they  spiered  my  business,  told  them  I  bore  letters 
frae  Laird  Gordon  and  was  baillie  o'  the  Laird  o' 
Stoneywold.  They  led  me  through  the  lines,  and,  as 
I  walked  between  the  winrows  o'  laddies  fast  asleep 
on  the  ground,  happed  in  their  plaids  like  bairnies, 
nane  o'  them  stirred  as  I  passed  to  the  Prince's  tent. 
It  was  a  bit  uncanny  to  see  sic  a  heap  o'  men  and  nae 
sign  o'  life,  and  I  was  glad  whan,  at  a  word  frae  Lord 
George  Murray,  the  sentries  passed  down  the  lines 
and,  wi'  a  silent  shake,  brought  the  laddies  to  their 
feet. 

"When   they   were   a'   in    their   ranks   the    Prince 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  243 

steppit  bonnily  to  the  fore  and  said,  'Follow  me,  gen- 
tlemen ;  by  the  help  o'  God  I  will  this  day  mak'  ye  a 
free  and  happy  people.'  Ah!  it  garred  my  bluid  rin 
hot  frae  my  heart  to  hear  him,  and  I  wad  hae  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  gates  o'  hell.  As  we  gang  owre  the 
bog,  the  Prince  leadin'  the  way,  but  bein'  no  wise 
used  to  travel  by  this  sort  o'  conveyance,  he  missed 
ane  o'  the  steppin'-stanes,  and  was  up  to  his  knees  in 
the  bog.  I  clouted  the  mire  frae  his  breeks  wi'  my 
ain  hands. 

"  'Your  Highness  will  need  to  step  wi'  care,'  said 
Lord  George;  'for  a  man  maun  easy  miss  the  stanes 
in  the  dark,  gin  he  forgets  the  stride  to  which  they 
are  set.' 

"Wi'  a  bonnie  laugh,  Prince  Charlie  answers: 
'Aye,  my  good  Murray,  but  step  by  step  we  gae  on  to 
glory,  and  the  stanes  that  a  Stuart  treads  are  set  to  his 
feet  by  destiny,  and  gin  he  miss  ane,  he  will  be  sure 
to  land  on  the  next.'  To  which  Lord  George  made 
no  answer;  but  I  couldna  help  but  think  to  myscl' 
'for  a'  that  it  is  fendy  to  keep  in  step  wi'  the  stanes.' 
When  we  were  weel  owre  the  stanes  and  the  night  was 
wearin'  awa',  we  formed  quickly  and  silently,  in  three 
battalions,  the  twa  to  the  fore  were  McDonald's  led 
by  the  Duke  o'  Perth,  the  Camerons,  Stewarts, 
and  McGregors  led  by  Lord  George,  wha  is  always 
to  the  fore ;  in  rear  o'  these  were  the  Athole 
men,  Drummonds,  and  Robertsons  led  by  Laird 
Nairn. 

"Swift  and  tently  we  swept  down  on  the  foe,  and 
were  close  hand  before  thedowie  sentinels  kenned  that 
the  Highland  laddies  were  upon  them.     They  had  to 


244  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

face  about,  so  that  the  stane  walls,  that  were  to  be 
their  bield,  were  now  their  slaughter-bught ;  for  we 
were  on  them,  before  they  were  fairly  about.  The 
laddies  cam'  on  a  sharp  trot,  fired  their  pieces  aince, 
then  flung  them  awa',  and  ilka  man  leapit  wi'  a  yell 
on  his  neist  foe.  They  parted  like  sheep,  in  a  mo- 
ment; fenced  in  by  their  breastworks,  which  were 
their  undoin'.  Foot  to  foot,  hand  to  hand,  lookin' 
straight  in  ane  anither's  e'en,  they  fought  like  deils. 
It  was  savage  wark,  a  bloody  sword-cut  fight,  and 
minded  me  o'  the  tales  o'  battles  fought  lang  syne. 
The  Prince  grew  sick  o'  it  and,  ridin'  in  amang  the 
men,  bid  them  spare  his  father's  subjects;  and  Lord 
George,  Drummond,  and  Lochiel  did  their  best  to 
stay  the  slaughter.  It  was  sair  sad,  the  way  they 
mowed  them  down  ;  and,  aboon  a',  it  garred  my  verra 
heart  bleed  to  see  their  brave  Colonel  Gardiner.  Sair 
wounded  by  a  Lochaber  ax,  he  set  himsel'  to  muster 
the  routed  men  and  fetch  them  aff  the  field.  He 
stood  like  a  guid  man,  and  I  wad  fain  hae  seen  him 
spared;  but  ane  o'  those  wild  western  McDonalds 
fell  on  him,  wi'  a  scythe  blade,  and  put  an  end  to  a 
noble  life.  But  the  lave  o'  their  officers  were  wild  to 
get  out  o'  reach  o'  harm's  way,  and  save  their  thin 
hides  frae  bein'  punctured;  they'd  be  grand  on  a 
footrace." 

And  this  opinion  of  John's  was  endorsed  by  their 
own  General  Lord  Kerr,  who  received,  at  Berwick, 
the  first  news  of  this  defeat  from  the  officers  in  com- 
mand;  and  he  greeted  them  with  this  savage  com- 
ment: "Good  God!  gentlemen,  I  have  seen  some 
battles  and  heard  of  many,  but  never  before  of  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  245 

first  news  of  defeat  being  brought  by  the  general 
officers." 

"But  what  did  ye  get  out  o*  this  victory,  John?" 
asked  Stoneywold. 

"Aweel,  we  put  an  end  to  Cope's  army;  and  we 
laid  hold  o'  their  treasure-chest  containin'  ^2500, 
and  there  was  fine  booty  o'  arms  and  clothin'  and  self- 
movin'  watches,  which  so  pleased  some  o'  the  laddies 
that  they  went  back  to  their  glens,  to  hang  the  trophies 
in  their  huts." 

"What  was  done  with  the  prisoners?"  asked  Lord 
Gordon. 

"Aweel,  there  were  many  o'  them  sent  to  a  far,  far 
country,  and  the  rest  to  an  island  in  Loch  Clunie,  in 
the  Athole  country.  And  the  next  day  Prince 
Charlie  went  back  to  Edinburgh,  wi*  great  glory.  He 
is  gentle  and  gracious  to  a'  men,  and  the  grand  balls 
at  Holyrood  bring  the  lairds  and  leddies  about  him, 
a'  wearin'  the  white  cockade.  I  saw  him  touch  for 
the  king's  evil;  and  a'  men  speak  him  fair,  save  ane 
old  Covenanter  minister,  wha  has  a  kirk  close  under 
the  castle  guns,  and  prays  that  'the  young  man  come 
amang  us  to  win  an  earthly  crown  may  soon  receive 
frae  the  Lord  the  crown  o'  glory.'  But  there  is 
naught  come  o'  that,  yet." 

"How  many  have  they  recruited?"  asked  Lord 
Gordon. 

"Aweel,  they  are  6000  strong,  I  hear,"  answered 
John ;  '  'but  the  city  tradesmen  hae  nae  likin'  for  war. 

"I  hear,  too,"  said  Lord  Lewis,  "that  the  clergy 
hold  aloof,  and  the  bankers  refuse  to  take  their  treas- 
ure from  the  castle;  is  this  true?" 


246  A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

"Aweel,"  answered  John,  "the  public  moneys  hae 
been  seized,  and  the  Crown  claims  are  paid  in  favor 
o'  King  James;  but  the  bankers  hae  their  funds  out 
o'  reach,  I  hear." 

"But  what  matters  it,  my  Laird,"  interposed 
Stoneywold,  "that  the  tradesmen  hold  aloof ;  we  get 
on  bravely  wi'out  them,  and  they  are  ill  suited  to  bear 
arms.  Excepting  Inverness  and  Edinburgh  Castle, 
and  a  few  small  forts,  a'  Scotland  is  ours  to-day." 

"And  the  Prince  didna  tak'  the  Castle,"  added 
John,  "because  the  barbarous  general  in  command 
declared  that  he  wad  bombard  the  town,  if  he  did. 
And  when  the  citizens  besought  the  Prince  to  save 
them  from  this  cruelty,  he  graciously  consented  to 
forego  the  capture  of  the  Castle,  at  such  a  price." 

Shortly  after  John's  return  Lord  Lewis  and  Stoney- 
wold were  summoned  to  a  council  of  war. 

Lord  Murray  briefly  summed  up  the  questions 
which  confronted  them. 

"My  Lords  and  gentlemen,  we  have  to  face  the 
question  as  to  what  our  next  step  shall  be.  There  is 
no  sign  of  an  English  or  even  of  a  Lowland  rising. 
There  is  no  immediate  prospect  of  foreign  aid.  Our 
success  has  been  wonderful;  but  we  must  not  let  it 
blind  us.  Can  we  hold  Scotland  with  a  force  of  6000 
men?  General  Wade  is  marching  up  the  east  coast 
with  an  army  reputed  to  be  larger  than  our  own.  We 
must  meet  the  question  now." 

"Gentlemen,"  interposed  the  Prince,  "I  will  not 
have  you  waste  words  upon  the  situation ;  it  is  my 
purpose  to  march  on  London." 

For  a  moment  all  were  aghast  at  this  announcement. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  247 

"This  is  to  provoke  disaster,  your  Highness,"  said 
Lochiel.  "Our  Highland  men  cannot  meet  the  Eng- 
lish on  their  own  soil." 

"And  yet,  my  Lairds,"  said  Murray,  to  whom  they 
all  looked  to  save  them  from  this  mad  proposal,  "I 
do  not  see  what  better  we  can  do.  We  cannot  await 
the  English  army  here  with  the  Castle  in  the  enemy's 
hands.  On  our  march  southward  we  can  keep  to  the 
west,  which  is  defenseless,  and  where  we  will  be 
among  friends  of  the  cause.  It  will  give  an  aspect  of 
success,  which  will  win  us  friends  mayhap,  and  afford 
opportunity  for  an  English  uprising,  or  a  French 
invasion. 

The  adhesion  of  Lord  George  to  the  plan  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  rest  of  the  leaders ;  and  so  they  took 
up  their  march  southward,  in  the  latter  part  of  Octo- 
ber, 300  dragoons  and  thirteen  Highland  regiments, 
with  the  Lowlanders  and  broken  clansmen  in  three 
other  regiments.  They  were  in  fine  heart  and  condi- 
tion, having  spent  six  weeks  in  the  richest  part  of 
Scotland.  On  reaching  the  Border,  however,  many 
of  the  Highlanders,  with  superstitious  dread  of  Eng- 
lish soil,  disappeared  and  made  their  stealthy  way 
back  to  their  mountain  retreats. 

The  Prince  reached  Carlisle  on  November  10,  and 
summoned  the  city  and  castle  to  surrender.  The 
doughty  little  Mayor  had  made  boast  that  he  was 
no  Scots  Patterson,  but  a  loyal  English  Pattison; 
and  he  was  ready  to  defy  this  rebel  horde.  But 
the  guns  on  the  wall  were  found  to  be  useless,  and 
Colonel  Durand,  in  command  of  the  fort,  found  his 
volunteers    deserting    him    to    a    man,    and    so  both 


248  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

town  and  castle  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  victorious 
Prince. 

On  November  18  he  entered  Carlisle,  on  a  white 
horse,  gayly  caparisoned,  with  a  hundred  pipers  play- 
ing before  him ;  and  the  shrill  music,  strange  garb, 
and  uncouth  speech  of  the  Highlanders  struck  terror 
to  the  hearts  of  the  citizens. 

With  the  story  of  this  march  of  unhindered  con- 
quest, the  Laird  of  Stoneywold  confirmed  the  position 
that  he  had  taken  from  the  first,  that  destiny  had 
chosen  this  young  Prince  for  the  throne. 

But  there  came  no  report  of  recruits  flocking  to  the 
standard.  The  English  Jacobites  seemed,  one  and 
all,  of  the  same  mind  as  the  daughter  of  Howard  of 
Castle  Corby,  who  entertained  the  Prince  with  state 
in  the  oak  parlor,  and  sent  him  on  his  way  with  the 
empty  prayer,  "May  God  bless  him." 

At  Preston,  the  populace  shouted  and  rang  the 
bells;  but  did  not  join  the  ranks.  When  Janet  com- 
mented on  this,  James's  answer  was:  "It  is  early  yet 
to  expect  recruits." 

He  proudly  recounted  the  next  success  at  Manches- 
ter, where  the  loyalty  of  the  citizens  was  testified  by 
the  subsidy  of  ,£3000  granted  to  the  Prince;  and 
where  200  recruits  joined  his  standard. 

"But  that  was  ever  counted  a  most  loyal  section," 
replied  Janet. 

"Aye,  but  the  English  are  cold-hearted;  when 
the  Prince  has  taen  London,  we  will  see  their  temper 
change,"  answered  James. 

"It  is  late  to  fight  when  the  battle  is  ended,"  said 
Janet. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  249 

"Aye,  we  must  win  it  by  our  ain  hands;  and  then 
they  will  submit,  wi'out  a  struggle,"  he  replied. 

"But  when  will  he  take  London?"  asked  Janet. 

"On  the  first  of  December  he  left  Manchester  for 
London ;  and,  for  a'  that  we  know,  the  messengers 
are  on  the  way,  now,  to  tell  us  that  it  is  ours." 

But  the  bearers  of  that  message  were  never  dis- 
patched ;  for,  at  Macclesfield,  they  received  news 
that  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  was  in  Staffordshire 
with  a  large  army,  and  another  army  awaited  them 
on  Finchley  Common;  and  they  halted  to  take 
counsel. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


ALL     O  ERS    ARE    ILL,    EXCEPT     O  ER     THE     WATER 
AND    O'ER    THE    HILL." 

THE  tide  was  at  the  flood.  Up  to  this  point  their 
career  had  been  a  romance;  cities  and  fort- 
resses had  fallen  before  them.  They  had  marched 
through  three  hundred  miles  of  an  enemy's  country 
without  any  base  of  supplies  or  any  line  of  retreat 
save  that  which  Providence  kept  open  for  them ;  they 
had  eluded  two  armies,  each  larger  than  their  own  ; 
and  now,  with  4500  men,  were  within  130  miles  of 
London,  with  two  armies  between  them  and  Scotland. 

They  had  struck  terror  into  the  hearts  of  their 
enemies.  The  king  is  said  to  have  had  his  most  pre- 
cious effects  embarked  in  barges,  for  instant  flight; 
the  Duke  of  Newcastle  is  reputed  to  have  shut  himself 
up  for  a  whole  day,  accessible  to  none,  debating 
whether  he  should  transfer  his  allegiance  to  the 
Prince. 

In  the  meanwhile  there  was  a  reaction  in  Scotland. 

Lord  Lewis  came  to  Stoneywold  with  the  report  of 
the  troublous  times  at  Edinburgh,  Perth,  and  Dun- 
dee: "The  burghers  threaten  the  unco  small  garrisons 
which  are  left  to  hold  these  cities." 

"My  scouts  bring  me  the  same  story  frae  the 
West,"  replied  Muir.     "Duncan  Forbes  holds  a  firm 

250 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  251 

hand  not  only  on  the  men  o'  Skye,  but  on  others  wha 
control  full  10,000  men.  John  Gunn  tells  me  that 
even  the  treacherous  old  barbarian  Lovat  stands  in 
awe  of  Forbes." 

"And  yet,"  said  Gordon,  "I  ken  that  he  sent  to 
the  Prince  a  secret  messenger  counseling  that  Forbes 
be  secured  dead  or  alive." 

"Aye,"  said  Stoneywold,  "but  it  cooled  his  ardor 
for  the  Prince  when  he  found  that  he  wasna  made 
Duke  of  Fraser;  and  now  he  will  curry  favor  with 
Forbes,  and  sent  to  him  bemoaning  that  his  son  had 
joined  the  Prince  with  1500  men,  which  he  had  bid 
him  do;  but  first  he  bid  him  capture  Forbes,  and 
carry  him  prisoner  to  the  Prince.  But  Forbes  knew 
his  neighbors,  and  had  fortified  Culloden  House." 

"He  had  Lovat  in  durance,  as  a  hostage,  I  heard," 
said  Gordon. 

"Aye,"  answered  Muir,  "but  he  is  not  easily  held; 
the  wily  old  fox  was  soon  free;  but  he  dreads  the 
trap,  and  will  let  Forbes  alone  now." 

"But,  my  Laird,  I  have  brave  news  from  abroad: 
our  treaty  with  France  is  made;  and  Lord  John 
Drummond,  who,  being  born  in  France,  is  a  French 
citizen,  has  set  sail  at  the  head  of  a  thousand  men," 
said  Gordon. 

"And  this  not  only  gives  us  an  addition  to  our 
force,  but  Ave  can  demand  that  the  English  troops, 
withdrawn  from  the  Continent  under  parole,  shall  not 
be  brought  into  the  field  against  these  French  troops," 
said  Muir.  "The  recruiting  in  Aberdeen  is  but  slow 
work,  my  Laird,  and  we  are  sorely  in  need  of  some 
help,"  added  Stoneywold. 


252  A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

"I  shall  force  a  levy,  my  Laird,"  answered  Gor- 
don; "and  demand  one  well-found  soldier  for  every 
^£100  of  valued  rent,  or  £5  substitute  money." 

"It  winna  do,  my  Laird,"  said  Muir.  "It  will 
bring  riot  and  bloodshed." 

"Then  their  blood  be  on  their  own  heads,"  an- 
swered Gordon.  "We  have  to  deal  wi'  a  low-minded 
set,  wha  count  the  cost  to  themsel's  rather  than  their 
duty  to  their  Prince." 

"Aye,  my  Laird,"  replied  Muir,  "but  it  is  an  unco 
hard  task  to  gar  men  see  wi'  your  eyes;  we  maun 
content  oursel's  wi'  strivin'  to  mak'  ane  man  do  the 
wark  o'  twa." 

This  recruiting  made  Stoneywold  a  marked  man  in 
the  community;  and  it  was  with  many  misgivings  that 
Janet  saw  him  ride  off  on  these  errands;  for  her  loy- 
alty did  not  extend  to  the  sacrifice  of  her  husband  for 
the  cause. 

"It  isna  work  for  you  to  be  at,  Jamie,"  she 
pleaded.  "You  were  made  to  lead  men,  not  to  drive 
and  tax  them,  and  hoard  up  their  malice  against 
you." 

"Ah!  Janet,"  he  answered,  "gin  every  man  is  to 
pick  and  choose,  we  may  as  well  gie  owre.  Lord 
Lewis  is  ready  to  do  it,  and  I  canna  say  it  is  not  fit 
work  for  me." 

"Lord  Gordon  can  suit  himsel',"  replied  Janet; 
"but  I  ken  this  is  work  for  a  recruiting  sergeant;  and 
you  are  fit  for  better  things." 

"The  work  that  is  needed  is  the  work  for  me,"  he 
answered  gayly,  as  he  rode  off  to  Aberdeen.  The 
town  was  in  a  state  of  excitement,  and   John  Gunn, 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  253 

hearing  muttered  threats  on  every  hand,  begged  his 
Laird  to  let  the  business  rest. 

"Bide  a  wee,  my  Laird,  till  we  hear  frae  the  south 
that  the  Prince  has  taen  London ;  then  the  tide  will 
tak'  a  turn,  till  we  canna  enroll  the  men  as  fast  as 
they  flock  to  us." 

"Wherefore  should  I  bide  till  the  work  is  done; 
and  I  must  feel  that  I  had  nae  hand  in  it?"  answered 
Muir. 

"Aweel,  do  not  gang  abroad  to-day,"  plead  John. 

"It  will  be  a  sorry  day,"  replied  Muir,  "when  I 
amna  free  to  walk  the  streets  o'  a  Scottish  city;"  and 
he  strode  down  Broad  Street. 

Scarce  had  he  gone  half-way  to  the  recruiting  sta- 
tion when  one  Reid,  a  barber,  in  an  excess  of  loyalty, 
and  smarting  under  Lord  Gordon's  exaction  of  sub- 
stitute money,  fired  at  him  from  a  second-story 
window. 

The  street  was  full  of  people  and  there  was  great 
consternation  at  the  unexpected  shot;  but  the  Laird 
of  Stoneywold  halted  under  the  window,  and,  drawing 
himself  up  to  his  full  six  feet  two,  invited  the  knight 
of  the  razor  to  come  down,  and  he  would  show  him 
fair  play  before  the  townsmen ;  which  invitation  the 
barber  saw  fit  not  to  accept. 

But  now  the  French  contingent  were  on  hand,  and, 
joining  their  Scotch  recruits  to  these,  Lord  Lewis  and 
Stoneywold  started  on  their  westward  march. 

Janet  bid  her  Jamie  good-by  with  a  brave  face,  and 
he  waved  his  adieu  from  the  head  of  his  column, 
proud  of  the  trust  reposed  in  him,  and  sure  that  he 
would  win  honors  which  Janet  would  share  with  him. 


254  A   HIGHLAND    CHROXICLE. 

No  such  hope  sustained  Helen  in  parting  with 
John.  This  Frince  Charlie  had  no  titles  or  favors 
within  his  gift  that  could  atone  for  the  taking  away  of 
her  John.  She  was  wholly  on  the  side  of  old  Sandy 
and  Gordon  McDonald,  who  had  used  all  their  pow- 
ers of  warning  and  persuasion  to  keep  the  Laird  and 
John  from  espousing  the  Prince's  cause. 

With  John  it  was  not  a  matter  of  politics,  but  of 
devotion  to  his  Laird  and  chief. 

"Ye  ken  what  I  owe  to  the  Laird.  He  stood  be- 
tween me  and  the  halter;  and  the  neck  he  saved  is 
his." 

"But  what  gars  the  Laird  rin  after  this  feckless 
Prince  Charlie?"  said  Helen.  "Where  is  he  gane 
noo?  He  is  in  London,  they  say.  Aweel,  there  let 
him  bide,  and  let  my  John  bide  at  hame." 

"Aye,"  broke  in  old  Sandy,  "ye  hae  the  richt  o'  it, 
lassie.  Let  the  twa  kings  fight  it  oot,  gin  they  be 
minded  to  wrastle  for  the  crown;  and  let  honest  folk 
bide  at  hame  and  mind  their  ain  affairs." 

"But  that  isna  the  way  o'  the  warld,"  remarked 
John  sententiously.  "Whan  kings  fa'  oot  wi'  ane 
anither,  the  bluid  o'  men  maun  rin  to  settle  the 
quarrel." 

"Aye,"  retorted  Sandy,  "the  Scripture  saith  'the 
way  o'  the  warld  warketh  death,'  and  it  is  e'en  sae.  I 
am  sair  weary  o'  this  fightin'  amang  neebors  and  kin- 
folk  for  a  man  wha  will  not  content  himsel'  wi'  the 
orderin's  o'  Providence,  but  maun  crown  himsel'  wi' 
the  bluid  o'  honest  men." 

"Wi'  me  it  isna  the  quarrel  o'  the  kings,  but  the 
service  o'  Stoneywold ;  and  gin  he  is  to  the  war,  I  am 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  255 

by  his  side,  for  life  or  for  death,"  said  John;  and 
this  closed  the  discussion,  save  for  old  Sandy's  part- 
ing shot,  "Aweel,  John,  ye  hae  my  disapprobation, 
and    my  prayers." 

As  the  winter  drew  on,  word  came  that  a  party  of 
McLeods  were  across  the  Spey,  on  their  way  to  clear 
Aberdeenshire  of  insurgents,  and  stop  the  recruiting 
for  the  Prince. 

"Let  them  come,"  said  John,  "we'll  show  them 
which  will  clear  the  shire.  They  are  best  on  their  bit 
island,  the  mainland  is  unco  braid  for  them  to  find 
their  way  aboot." 

"John,  ye  may  find  that  the  McLeods  can  crack  a 
crown,"  answered  Stoneywold.  "It  suits  me  ill  to 
lead  Frenchmen  agen  Highlanders,  wha  should  be  wi' 
us.  But  sae  must  it  be;  and  we  maun  do  our  duty 
even  though  others  forget  their  fealty." 

The  two  forces  met  at  Inverurie;  and  the  men  of 
Aberdeen,  after  a  short,  sharp  fight  sent  the  McLeods 
back  to  the  west.  This  success,  and  the  gathering  of 
the  Frasers  at  Perth  under  Lord  Strathallan,  as  an 
army  of  reserve,  gave  life  to  the  hopes  of  the  Prince's 
men,  and  made  them  eager  for  news  of  victory  from 
the  south. 

"What  news  frae  London,  Lord  Lewis?"  asked 
Stoneywold,  as  soon  as  the  messenger  from  Lord 
George  was  gone. 

"The  news  is  not  from  London.     The  Prince  is  on 

his  way  back  to  Scotland,  pursued  by  the  Duke  of 

Cumberland   with  a  large   army,"  said  Lord  Gordon; 

and  he  told  him  the  story  of  the  retreat  to  Carlisle. 

James  was  leaving  oamp  to  pay  a  visit  to  Janet. 


256  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

When  he  reached  home  she  read  ill  news  in  his  face, 
and  without  delay  he  told  it  to  her. 

*  'Our  men,  wha  carried,  each  man,  his  rations  in  a 
meal-pock,  and  lay  down  at  night  under  the  open  sky, 
happed  in  their  plaids,  easily  outstripped  the  Duke 
marching;  but,  at  Clifton,  his  dragoons  overtook  our 
rear  guard,  under  Lord  George,  wha  is  always  betwixt 
the  Prince  and  danger.  He  sent  for  more  men,  and, 
when  these  were  refused  him,  he  posted  those  he  had, 
which  were  Roy  Stewart's  men,  the  McPhersons,  and 
the  Glengarry  McDonalds,  so  that  he  had  a  hedge  on 
one  side,  and  the  wall  o'  the  Lonsdale  inclosures  on 
the  other.  The  sky  was  full  o'  broken  clouds,  and 
by  the  moonlight,  through  a  rift,  our  men  saw  the 
dragoons,  dismounted,  creepin'  on  them;  and  Lord 
George  ordered  a  charge  at  once,  and,  by  a'  accounts, 
the  Highland  men  made  short  work  o'  my  Lord 
Duke's  dragoons.  We  hear  that  they  got  such  a  taste 
o'  claymore  as  lasted  them  till  our  men  reached 
Carlisle." 

"And  where  is  the  Prince  now?"  asked  Janet. 

"He  left  a  garrison  in  Carlisle,  and  marched  to 
'Glasgow ;  where,  by  a'  accounts,  they  held  a  fine 
Christmas  jubilee  and  made  a  noble  levy  on  the  rich 
traders,  at  which  they  were  sae  angered  that  their 
dames  hae  declared  that  the  Prince  is  far  frae  good- 
lookin',  and  they  vvadna  attend  his  ball;"  and  Muir 
laughed  merrily.  "We  hae  sent  John  for  orders,  and 
he  will  be  back,  wi'  the  next  news,  in  a  day  or 
two." 

"And  what  will  ye  do  now,  Jamie?  Canna  ye  just 
bide  at  hame?" 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  257 

"Na,  na,  Janet,  we  must  wait  our  orders  frae  Lord 
George;  but  they  winna  be  to  bide  at  hame. " 

Two  days  later  John  came  back  with  a  batch  of 
news  which  one  might  regard  as  good  or  bad,  accord- 
ing to  his  humor. 

"The  Duke  is  gane  back  to  London,  and  General 
Hawley,  wha  by  a'  accounts  is  brutal  alike  to  friend 
and  foe,  was  set  to  chase  'the  rabble,'  as  he  ca's  us. 
He  made  merry  owre  the  mischances  o'  Wade  and 
Cope,  and  wanted  only  the  chance  to  meet  us.  Aweel, 
and  he  had  it.  We  were  layin'  siege  to  Stirlin' 
Castle,  and  he  cam'  on  to  Falkirk.  He  was  at  break- 
fast wi'  Lady  Kilmarnock,  when  they  spoiled  his  par- 
ritch  wi'  the  news  that  our  men  were  makin'  for  the 
high  ground  o'  the  moor,  overlookin'  his  camp.  The 
information  was  true,  but  a  bit  late.  Up  frae  the 
table  he  sprang,  and  wi'  bare-head  rode  through  the 
storm,  his  gray  hair  streamin'  in  the  wind,  and  he 
shoutin'  orders  to  his  dragoons  to  sieze  the  high 
ground.  It  was  a  fine  race;  but  we  had  the  start, 
and  reached  the  mound  first,  but  in  stragglin'  fash- 
ion; and  Hawley  shouted  for  the  dragoons  to  charge, 
which  they  did,  with  the  infantry,  in  double  line,  close 
behind  them.  The  dragoons  were  on  us  so  quick 
that  they  were  in  amang  our  lines;  and  we  fought 
hand  to  hand,  while  the  storm  beat  on  us.  Our  sec- 
ond line  was  comin'  on,  and,  when  the  dragoons  drew 
back  to  form  for  anither  charge,  they  gave  them  a 
rakin'  fire,  which  made  them  waver  for  a  minute;  and 
then,  wi'  the  slogan  soundin'  wild  and  free,  our  men 
swept  down  the  hill.  There  was  naething  could  stand 
against  that  glorious  rush,  and   the  Saxons  scattered 


258  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

as  if  the  storm  was  blawin'  them  to  every  airt;  leavin' 
not  less  than  three  hundred  dead  on  the  field." 

"Ah!  John,  it  was  a  rare  chance.  I  wish  I  had 
taen   the  dispatch  mysel',"  said  Stoneywold. 

But  Janet  was  more  than  glad  that  he  had  not. 

But,  now,  they  heard  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  at 
Edinburgh  to  take  command  in  person,  and  that  the 
siege  of  Stirling  was  raised,  and  the  Highland  army 
were  coming  back  to  their  own  land.  The  Prince, 
with  one  division,  took  the  Highland  road  by  Blair 
Athole,  and  Lord  George,  with  the  other,  came  up 
through  Aberdeen ;   they  were  to  winter  at  Inverness. 

With  forces  combined,  they  were  now  on  their  own 
soil,  and  their  hopes  ran  high.  They  would  recruit, 
through  the  winter,  and  open  the  spring  campaign 
with  a  strong  force  of  Scotch  and  a  substantial  con- 
tingent of  French  troops. 

The  Prince  came  near  paying  dear  for  his  confi- 
dence in  his  leal  Scotch  subjects.  Riding  far  in 
advance  of  his  army,  attended  by  Lord  Gordon, 
Muir,  and  three  other  gentlemen,  he  stopped,  over 
night,  at  Moy  House,  the  seat  of  government  of  the 
Clan  Mcintosh. 

While  at  dinner  a  shepherd  came  in,  with  the  news 
that  a  party  of  McLeods  were  on  the  borders  of  the 
estate.  While  the  Prince  and  his  suite  rode  away 
toward  the  army,  John  Gunn  remained  behind,  as  a 
scout. 

Down  by  the  burn  was  a  cluster  of  cottages,  around 
the  blacksmith  shop,  where  John  was  wont  to  while 
away  many  an  hour  "haein'  his  cracks  wi'  the  smith, 
wha  is  a  douce  man  and  leal  to  the  cause,"  he  said. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  259 

In  return  for  the  news  of  the  neighborhood,  John 
told  him  stories  of  the  war,  battles,  night  marches, 
and  overwhelming  surprises  of  the  enemy,  which 
tickled  the  old  Jacobite.  Hither  John  repaired,  when 
the  gentlemen  left,  and  confided  to  his  friend  Angus, 
the  smith,  and  three  of  his  cronies,  that  he  was  acting 
as  rear  guard  to  the  Prince  and  his  attendants,  who 
were  riding  away  from  a  band  of  McLeods. 

Angus  proposed  that  they  organize  for  defense. 
"We  will  gang  down  by  the  burn,  alang  the  track  the 
thievin'  McLeods  maun  tak',  and  we'll  post  oursel's. 
I  ken  where  the  road  breaks  through  a  hollow,  wi'  a 
fir  copse  on  ane  side,  and  we'll  put  Lang  Jock  in 
command." 

"Aweel,"  said  John,  nothing  loath,  "not  to  be  out- 
done by  freend  Angus,  I'll  form  ye  into  four  divisions, 
and  appoint  each  o'  ye  to  a  sole  and  separate  com- 
mand." 

"Will  we  fight  at  close  grups  or  lang  range,"  asked 
the  smith's  blower,  who  had  his  misgivings. 

"My  notion,"  said  Angus,  "is  that  we  do  the  heft 
o'  the  battle  wi'  our  lungs,  and  the  rest  wi'  our  heels, 
which  we'll  rely  on  for  defense,  gin  the  affair  is  too 
hot.  For  my  ain  part  I  think  I  can  beat  the  bushes 
o'  that  copse,  and  tramp  the  snaw  crust,  to  the  tune  o* 
aboot  twenty  men;  gin  the  rest  o*  ye  can  do  as  weel, 
we  hae  the  power  o'  eighty  men ;  and  I'll  set  our  gen- 
eral down  for  as  good  as  forty  more." 

So  they  went  to  the  dell,  at  nightfall,  and  posted 
themselves  under  Angus's  direction.  The  night  was 
dark,  and  the  little  band  of  McLeods  came  warily  on  ; 
as  they  reached  the  head   of  the  hollow,  where  the 


260  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

road  went  down  to  the  burn,  they  halted,  when  they 
heard  the  tramp  of  feet  on  the  hillside;  for  the  five 
men  tramping  the  crusted  snow  sounded  like  the 
tread  of  an   army. 

They  heard  the  order  given,  in  a  suppressed  tone, 
for  the  second  division  to  make  a  detour  round  the 
hill,  to  intercept  their  retreat;  then  there  was  some 
countermarching  and  the  order  was  given  to  seize  the 
ford. 

The  confusion  of  mind  as  to  the  plans  of  this 
unseen  foe  added  to  the  panic  with  which  the  Mc- 
Leods  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

John  dubbed  this  adventure  "The  Rout  of  Moy"; 
and  became  famous  not  only  for  his  tactics,  but  also 
as  a  skald,  when,  to  admiring  circles  of  the  Jacobites, 
he  told,  with  many  a  thrilling  touch,  the  story  of  this 
famous  victory. 

The  two  armies  lay  in  winter  quarters,  the  one  at 
Inverness  and  the  other  at  Aberdeen.  The  Duke  of 
Cumberland  contented  himself  with  quartering  his 
men  on  the  Jacobite  families,  confiscating  estates, 
burning  houses,  and  laying  waste  the  lands  of  those 
who  had  "gone  out." 

From  this  devastation  the  Stoneywold  estate  was 
protected  by  the  deed  of  factory,  which  the  Laird  had 
given  to  his  wife.  But  an  English  company  of  dra- 
goons, under  command  of  Captain  Leighton,  was 
quartered  at  the  Hall.  He  was  a  gentleman,  and 
interpreted  his  orders  in  a  spirit  of  chivalry  toward 
an  unprotected  woman.  His  exposure  to  the  rigors 
of  a  northern  winter  laid  him  up  with  a  severe  illness, 
through  which   Mrs.   Muir,   with   the  help  of  Helen 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  261 

Gunn,  nursed  him,  and  she  wrote  to  his  mother,  in 
the  south  of  England,  that  her  son,  sick  and  far  from 
home,  was  in  the  hands  of  one  who  recognized  the  tie 
to  another  mother's  son,  amid  all  the  bitterness  which 
war  engenders. 

He  would  have  paid  for  it  with  his  life  if  he  had 
been  left  to  the  rough  nursing  of  his  men ;  and,  when 
he  left,  he  told  Mrs.  Muir,  in  a  manly  and  tender 
Avay,  that  he  knew  that  he  owed  his  life  to  her  and 
Helen,  and  would  never  forget  it. 

The  Prince's  army  found  occupation  in  constant 
forays  for  subsistence,  in  the  assault  and  destruction 
of  the  old  castle  at  Inverness,  and  the  destruction  of 
Fort  Augustus. 

During  a  season  of  comparative  inaction,  Stoney- 
wold  gained  permission  to  lead  an  expedition  for  the 
relief  of  the  Earl  of  Cromarty,  who  was  hindered  from 
joining  the  Prince  by  Duncan  Forbes,  who,  with  a 
small  force,  kept  his  neighbors  in  subjection. 

The  Lord  President  retreated  before  the  energetic 
pursuit  of  Stoneywold  across  the  Firth  of  Dornock, 
and,  having  a  brig  to  patrol  this  long  narrow  neck  of 
water,  settled  himself  securely  on  the  western  shore. 
This  seemed  indeed  to  put  an  end  to  the  pursuit,  for 
the  insurgents  could  bring  no  vessel  to  cope  with  the 
brig. 

"John,"  said  the  Laird,  "we  must  win  across  this 
narrow  water." 

"It  isna  the  water  that  bothers  me,  my  Laird;  but 
the  guns  o'  yon  brig,  which  look  unco  angry,"  an- 
swered John. 

"Do  ye  tak'  the  men  down  the   Firth,  and   I  will 


262  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

gang  up  the  shore,  and,  by  morning,  we  will  gather 
enough  fishers'  boats  to  carry  us  over,  and,  gin  the 
mist  will  hang  for  twa  hours  on  the  water,  the  brig 
will  do  us  nae  harm."  And,  sure  enough,  under  the 
very  guns  of  the  brig,  they  crossed  in  the  rowboats, 
and  fell  upon  the  over-confident  Lord  President,  who 
was  forced  to  beat  such  a  hasty  retreat  that  all  his 
camp  equipage  fell  a  prey  to  his  active  pursuers. 

Another  portion  of  the  army  was  in  constant  skir- 
mish with  the  parties  sent  out  by  Cumberland  to  over- 
awe the  Lowlanders;  and,  in  this  service,  the  men  of 
Aberdeen  bore  their  part. 

But,  as  spring  opened,  all  these  minor  operations 
were  brought  to  an  end,  and  the  forces  were  concen- 
trated to  meet  the  army  of  the  Duke,  who  had  taken 
up  his  march  from  Aberdeen,  along  the  coast,  accom- 
panied by  a  fleet  of  storeships.  He  advanced  very 
slowly,  and  there  was  ample  time  to  make  their  prep- 
arations and  discuss  the  plan  and  place  at  which  they 
should  give  him  battle. 

On  April  n  he  reached  the  Spey.  Here  Lord 
Lewis  Gordon  and  Stoneywold,  and  a  number  of 
the  more  ardent  spirits,  were  anxious  to  make  a 
stand. 

"The  river  is  rapid,  and  the  banks  are  steep," 
urged  Lord  Gordon.  "Our  Highland  men  can  meet 
them  with  the  advantage  of  ground  that  will  give  them 
a  chance  to  charge  as  they  love  to  do;  and  their 
strength  and  bravery  will  tell  against  the  discipline  of 
our  enemy." 

"It  is  the  Highland  frontier,"  said  old  Keppock, 
with  glowing  enthusiasm.      "It  will  fire  our  men  to 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  263 

ken  that  they  hold  them  back,  at  the  very  door,  and 
winna  let  them  tread  a  foot  on  Highland  soil." 

"This  is  worth  a  whole  regiment  o'  men,"  plead 
Stoneywold.  "I  am  sure  I  can  hold  the  Spey  against 
twice  our  force." 

Lord  George  yielded,  against  his  own  convictions; 
and  Lord  Gordon,  Keppock,  and  Stoneywold  were 
given  1200  men  to  withstand  the  passage  of  the 
Duke's  army  over  the  Spey. 

Lord  Gordon  insisted  upon  throwing  up  some  petty 
breastworks,  in  view  of  the  pitiful  size  of  their  force. 

"It  winna  answer  ony  good  purpose,  my  Laird," 
urged  Stoneywold.  "The  laddies  wad  gang  waist- 
deep  in  the  roarin'  water,  and  fight  like  demons;  but 
your  ditches  will  mak'  cowards  o'  them." 

"And  why  not?"  said  Keppock.  "A  man  can 
fight,  in  the  open,  till  muir  or  river  rins  red;  but  wha 
will  be  penned,  like  sheep  in  a  slaughter-bught,  and 
not  lose  courage?" 

Somewhat  crestfallen  this  little  force  fell  back  on 
the  main  army,  without  the  loss  of  a  single  man,  it  is 
true,  but  without  having  held  the  enemy  in  check  for 
an  hour.  All  these  things  gave  the  men  a  feeling  that 
their  leaders  lacked  plan  and  purpose. 

On  April  15,  the  Duke's  army  halted  at  Nairn  to 
hold  a  feast  in  honor  of  the  commander's  birthday. 
This  festivity  suggested  the  possibility  of  a  surprise, 
when  the  enemy  were  off  their  guard,  after  the 
revel.  At  eight  o'clock  that  night  they  set  out,  Lord 
George  Murray  himself  in  command;  for  they  all  felt 
that  this  was  a  promising  opportunity.  How  often  had 
just  such  a  situation  given  them  an  overwhelming  vie- 


264  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

tory.  But  forced  marches  through  the  glens  and  over 
the  moors,  on  their  forays  for  food,  had  wasted  the 
energies  of  the  men,  and  the  feuds  and  want  of  pur- 
pose among  their  leaders  had  dispirited  them. 

Lord  Murray  gave  orders  that  the  divisions  should 
approach  the  camp  by  different  routes. 

"The  men  are  not  to  use  firearms  at  all,"  he  said, 
"but  must  fall  silently  on  the  foe,  when  they  are 
asleep,  cut  the  tent-ropes,  pitch  over  the  tents,  and 
stab,  with  dirk  or  claymore,  wherever  they  see  the 
canvas  bulge." 

The  very  tone  of  the  order  seemed  to  picture  their 
helpless  foe  before  them,  in  the  toils  of  their  own 
tents;  and  the  men  felt  for  their  dirks. 

They  started  with  impetuous  ardor,  but  the  night 
was  pitch  dark  and  the  moorland  was  rugged,  and  the 
men  were  worn  by  hunger  and  cold;  and,  at  two  in 
the  morning,  they  were  still  three  miles  away  from 
the  enemy's  camp. 

"There  is  but  a  short  time  before  the  dawn  will  be 
breakin',"  said  John  Gunn,  as  he  kept  close  beside 
Muir,  wondering  how  the  Laird  held  such  a  stride, 
after  six  hours'  march. 

"It  will  gar  us  see  where  to  strike,  John,"  answered 
Muir. 

"Aye,  my  Laird,  and  it  will  gar  them  see  us,  before 
we  strike,"  said  John. 

"Ah!  John  man,  what  was  that?"  said  Muir,  as 
he  heard  a  drum  beat  in  the  enemy's  camp,  but 
refused  credence  to  his  own  ears. 

"It  is  the  token  that  we  are  seen  already,"  replied 
John. 


A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  265 

"That  cannabe,"  answered  Muir;  "for  ye  couldna 
tell  a  man  frac  a  furze  bush,  twenty  feet  awa'." 

"For  a'  that,"  answered  John,  "the  furze  bushes 
bide  still;  and,  gin  ye  see  them  move,  it  is  time  to  be 
awake." 

They  were  some  forty  rods  in  advance  of  the  main 
body. 

"It  may  be  as  well  to  bide  here,  until  we  ken  what 
Lord  George  mak's  o'  the  racket,"  said  John. 

So  they  stood  still;  but  the  dark  mass  in  the  dis- 
tance did  not  come  any  nearer,  and  they  fell  back  on 
the  main  body,  to  find  that  a  retreat  had  been 
ordered. 

Stoneywold  was  indignant,  and  hurried  after  Lord 
Lewis,  to  seek  an  explanation  of  this  hasty  surrender 
of  their  plan. 

"My  good  Stoneywold,  it  was  plain  as  the  daylight 
that  we  could  not  take  them  unawares.  Whether 
they  saw  us  or  not,  they  were  certainly  awake,  and 
we  would  have  found  them  intrenched,  and  would 
have  fought  fresh  men  with  men  weary  and  worn  by 
a  long  night  march." 

Muir  could  not  resist  the  potent  wisdom  of  this 
reasoning  and  was  perforce  content;  but  the  Prince 
was  furious,  and  denounced  Lord  Murray  as  a  coward 
and  traitor. 

There  were  loud  contests  for  and  against  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, as  the  dispirited  Highlanders  made 
their  way  back  to  Drummossie  Moor,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Culloden  House,  and  resumed  their  desperate 
efforts  to  find  food  in  a  barren  land. 

John  had  spent  the  previous  day  in  foraging,  over 


266  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

a  wide  district,  to  get  some  meat  for  a  haggis,  or  a 
fowl  for  a  cock-a-leekie.  The  meal-pocks  were 
empty,  and,  even  if  full,  this  was  a  sorry  diet,  for  so 
long.  John  was  bent  on  giving  Stoneywold  a  more 
solid  stay  to  his  stomach,  for  to-morrow's  battle.  As 
soon  as  they  reached  camp,  he  set  to  work  preparing 
the  meal,  against  Stoneywold's  waking. 

The  damp  ground  and  long  march  had  so  stiffened 
the  joints  of  the  men  that  they  were  hard  to  rouse; 
but,  by  dint  of  threats  and  persuasions,  judiciously 
mingled,  he  got  enough  of  them  at  work  gathering 
wood  and  kindling  a  fire  to  have  some  porridge  ready 
for  the  men ;  and  a  haggis  in  fair  condition  for 
Stoneywold's  breakfast. 

When  James  came,  at  John's  call,  the  hungry  looks 
of  the  men  made  him  suspect  that  it  was  at  the  ex- 
pense of  their  fasting  that  he  was  feasting. 

"Ye  hounds,  canna  ye  leave  the  Laird  to  his  bit 
breakfast?"  said  John,  scowling  on  the  men. 

"Na,  John,  we'll  share  alike,"  replied  James. 
"We  are  a'  to  fight  in  the  same  cause  this  day,  side 
by  side,  and  wha  kens  whose  hand  shall  strike  down 
that  butcher  Cumberland.  So  let  a'  fare  alike. 
•  Come,  laddies,  I'll  share  your  parritch,  and  ye  shall 
taste  my  haggis." 

With  keen  disgust,  John  saw  man  after  man  come 
forward  for  a  taste  of  the  savory  dish;  but,  for  him- 
self, declined  to  touch  a  morsel  of  it. 

They  had  scarce  finished  their  hasty  meal  when 
Lochiel  came  with  the  summons  from  Lord  George 
Murray  to  muster  the  men  by  clans,  as  the  enemy  was 
already  forming  their  line  of  battle  on  Culloden  Moor. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  267 

"God  forfend  that  there  be  no  foe  in  our  own 
camp  when  we  face  the  Saxons,"  said  the  Cameron 
chief. 

Stoneywold  looked  up  in  surprise. 

Lochiel  answered  the  look.  "Aye,  we  may  have 
more  cause  to  fear  friend  than  foe.  The  McDonalds 
have  claimed  a  place  on  the  right  o'  the  line,  and 
Clanranald  has  e'en  said  they  will  fight  there  or 
nowhere." 

"And  what  said  my  Laird  Murray  to  this?"  in- 
quired Stoneywold. 

"He  told  them  that  he  was  put  in  command  by  the 
Prince  and  was  responsible  to  him  for  the  best  dis- 
posal of  his  men ;  and,  with  this,  they  carried  their 
complaint  to  the  Prince.  Only  old  Keppock  said  he 
was  ready  to  fight  a  Saxon,  right  or  left." 

"Aye,"  broke  in  John  Gunn,  "we'll  see  that  man 
to  the  fore,  gin  he  has  to  gae  there  alane." 

"But  what  says  the  Prince?"  inquired  Stoneywold 
anxiously. 

"Ah!"  replied  Lochiel,  "what  says  the  Prince 
ever;  a  bonnie  word  and  a  smiling  promise,  which  I 
fear  me  are  not  like  to  suit  these  rough  western  men ; 
and  Lord  George  will  place  his  men  as  he  thinks  fit. 
He  is  ready  enough  to  fight  for  the  Prince,  but  not 
with  him." 

This  was  disheartening  news;  but  it  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  present  exigency,  which  was  pressing 
enough  to  absorb,  for  the  time,  all  the  energies  of  the 
Laird  of  Stoneywold  and  Lord  Gordon,  and  such  of 
their  retainers  as  were  at  hand.  They  found  a  piper 
and  bid  him  play  the  pibroch,  and  they  sounded  the 


268  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

slogan  of  clan  after  clan.  There  was  a  feeble,  scatter- 
ing response;  but  it  dismayed  them  to  see  how  small 
the  muster  of  men  was. 

With  those  who  did  respond,  they  organized  parties 
who  went  through  the  dells  and  copses,  beating  the 
bushes  as  if  on  a  fox  hunt,  finding  the  men  wrapped 
in  their  plaids,  so  fast  bound  in  the  sleep  of  the  weak 
and  weary  that  they  could  be  roused  only  by  a  hard 
shaking. 

They  staggered  to  their  feet  and  mechanically  fol- 
lowed where  they  were  led.  As  band  after  band  of 
these  stragglers  came  in,  Lord  George  and  Stoney- 
wold  organized  them,  under  the  leadership  of  those 
who  were  more  thoroughly  awake,  and  sent  them  to 
the  front. 

In  a  little  knot,  apart  from  the  rest,  were  the  Mc- 
Donalds, the  chieftains  in  excited  consultation,  the 
men  catching  the  murmur  of  their  discontent,  with  a 
sullen  look  that  boded  ill  for  the  share  that  they  would 
take  in  the  coming  struggle. 

In  this  light  it  appeared  to  them  all,  leaders  and 
men  alike;  and,  to  most  of  them,  it  seemed  the  final 
and  supreme  effort  on  which  hung  all  the  fortunes  of 
the  house  of  Stuart. 

But  the  Prince,  for  whom  this  desperate  strife  was 
made,  with  easy  assurance,  felt  that  the  crowning 
moment  of  his  life  was  come;  the  quarrels  of  the 
petty  chieftains  did  not  ruffle  his  serenity;  the  priva- 
tions of  the  men  were  but  necessary  incidents  in  the 
prosecution  of  his  plans,  and  he  was  lavish  in  his 
promises  of  reward  for  their  loyal  service. 

Upon  Lord  George  Murray  the  perplexities  of  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  269 

situation  weighed  heavily.  He  moved  about,  with 
careworn  face,  giving  his  orders  with  decision,  but 
with  a  weary  voice.  He  was  facing  ten  thousand  dis- 
ciplined troops  with  six  thousand  dispirited  men. 

The  position,  too,  was  all  in  the  enemy's  favor. 
The  wide  moor,  which  the  eye  took  in  at  a  glance, 
showed  no  bit  of  rugged  ground  to  aid  the  Highland- 
ers in  their  peculiar  mode  of  warfare,  no  chance  for  a 
surprise,  no  high  ground  from  which  to  break  on  the 
foe,  like  one  of  their  own  wild  mountain  storms. 

Lord  George  therefore  hesitated,  even  after  re- 
peated orders  from  the  Prince,  to  give  the  command 
to  charge;  for  everything  was  against  them,  even  the 
wind. 

At  last  the  clamor  of  his  men,  standing  helpless 
under  the  slaughter  made  by  the  Duke's  well-served 
artillery,  forced  him  to  give  the  order.  The  front 
rank  of  the  Highlanders  straggled  obliquely  across 
the  moor  and  was  broken  in  pieces  before  the  second 
rank  was  in  motion,  and  so  swiftiy  did  the  tide  of  war 
roll  back  the  broken  front  upon  the  advancing  re- 
serves, that  in  a  half  hour  Culloden  Moor  was  clear  of 
every  man  that  could  escape. 

The  white  rose  was  torn,  and  its  petals  scattered  so 
that  none  might  ever  gather  them.  Through  all  the 
wild  havoc  John  Gunn  kept  close  to  Stoneywold,  more 
bent  on  shielding  his  Laird  than  on  saving  the  cause 
of  Prince  Charlie. 

The  cold-blooded  slaughter,  which  earned  for  the 
Duke  of  Cumberland  the  epithet  of  "butcher,"  and 
the  hot  pursuit  of  fugitives  under  the  order  to  seize 
the  persons  of  rebels,  and,  if  they  resisted,  put  them 


270  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

to  the  sword  at  once,  set  every  man  to  escape  as 
best  he  might.  Orders  were  also  given  that  the 
goods  and  chattels  of  the  slain  were  forfeit  to  their 
captors;  "which  made  the  soldiers  very  alert  in 
searching  and  apprehending  rebels,"  naively  remarks 
one  chronicler;  "and  if  others  suffered  in  carrying 
out  this  function,  the  accident  could  not  be  helped," 
he  adds. 

The  forces  of  the  Duke,  scattered  over  the  country 
in  detached  parties,  charged  with  this  congenial  duty, 
did  their  grim  commander's  will  with  zest. 

One  night,  in  the  latter  part  of  April,  the  Lady  of 
Stoneywold,  sitting  by  her  open  window,  at  twilight, 
with  a  heavy  heart,  knowing  not  what  to  hope  or  fear, 
was  startled  by  a  stone  thrown  in  at  the  window, 
around  which  was  wrapped  a  bit  of  paper  with  this 
message  on  it,  "The  Highland  army  was  destroyed  at 
Culloden — the  Prince  is  a  fugitive  with  a  price  on  his 
head — the  Laird  and  John  escaped."  It  was  from 
her  quondam  patient,  the  English  captain,  on  his  way 
to  the  south ;  and  she  felt  well  repaid  for  her  care  of 
him. 

The  Prince  fled  westward  from  the  bloody  field, 
with  a  small  escort  of  Highlanders. 

John  kept  close  to  his  Laird,  and  they  were  swept, 
by  the  rout,  off  the  other  side  of  the  moor,  and  did 
not  catch  sight  of  the  Prince.  With  a  few  compan- 
ions they  made  their  way  to  the  woods  of  Kingussie, 
and  there  dispersed. 

Stoneywold  and  John  concluded  to  push  their  way 
toward  Aberdeenshire,  and  at  least  show  themselves 
alive  to  Janet  and  Helen. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"every  man   bows   to  the    bush   he  gets   bield 

FRAE." 

THEY  had  put  their  cause  upon  the  hazard  of  the 
die,  and  it  was  lost.  This  the  most  sanguine 
must  now  admit.  The  Prince  was  a  fugitive,  with  a 
price  on  his  head ;  his  followers  were  scattered,  living 
in  the  forests  and  on  the  moors,  hunted  like  wild 
beasts. 

It  behooved  every  man  to  look  to  his  own  welfare 
and  escape,  as  best  he  could,  the  consequences  of  his 
adherence  to  the  fallen  house  of  Stuart. 

As  Stoneywold  and  John  made  their  way,  down 
through  the  Braemar  wilds,  toward  Aberdeenshire, 
they  had  little  to  say  of  the  great  battle  on  which 
their  fate  had  turned;  they  were  more  concerned  with 
the  dangers  of  pursuit,  which  threatened  them  on 
every  hand. 

After  many  a  hairbreadth  escape,  they  reached  the 
foot  of  Cairngorm,  the  old  home  of  the  Lochgellie 
band,  the  sight  of  which  stirred  in  John's  heart  many  a 
memory  of  the  past,  and  brought  vividly  before  him 
the  thought  of  Helen  and  the  Lady  Janet,  both  long- 
ing to  hear  tidings  of  the  Laird  and  himself.  And 
yet  they  were  not  in  such  sad  case  as  one  might  think. 
John  congratulated  himself  that  the  Laird  had  come 


272  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

safe  and  sound  out  of  the  rout;  and  the  excitement 
of  pursuit  kept  the  Laird  from  dwelling  on  the  disas- 
ter, which,  after  all,  was  only  an  incident  in  the  fickle 
fortunes  of  war. 

As  they  came  near  home  they  lay  hidden  in  the 
woods  until  nightfall,  and  then,  making  their  way 
down  the  Don  side  to  the  neighborhood  of  John's 
cottage,  Stoneywold  remained  in  hiding  while  John 
went  forward  to  reconnoiter. 

Helen  met  him  with  the  news  that  a  company  of 
English  soldiers  were  quartered  at  the  Hall,  and  that 
the  Lady  Janet,  with  the  children,  slept  in  the  rear 
room  of  the  first  story,  in  the  left  wing. 

Nothing  daunted  by  so  trivial  an  obstacle,  James 
determined  to  see  his  Janet. 

"Let  me  gae,"  said  Helen,  "and  fetch  the  Leddy 
Janet  to  our  cot.  I'll  tell  her  that  Nell  is  sick;  or 
I'll  change  frocks  wi'  her,  and  lie  down  by  the  bairns, 
till  she  comes  back." 

"No,  Helen,"  answered  the  Laird,  "ye  canna 
change  hair  wi'  the  Leddy  Janet,  nor  gie  her  your 
free  stride ;  and  I  winna  let  ony  rin  a  risk  that  I 
dinna  tak'  mysel'.  It  wad  rouse  their  suspicion  to 
see  you  come  and  gae  by  night.  I  will  tap  at  my 
Leddy's  window,  and,  gin  I  rouse  the  guards,  it 
will  be  fight  or  flight;  and  I  can  beat  them  at 
baith." 

So  off  he  posted,  near  midnight,  disguised  in  the 
dress  of  a  farmer's  gillie,  which  he  had  gotten  from 
James  Jamieson,  one  of  his  tenants.  He  crept  toward 
the  house,  but  not  so  softly  as  to  escape  the  quick  ear 
of  Janet,  who  lay  thinking  of  him,  as  she  had  done 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  273 

every  night,  far  on  toward  morning,  since  the  message 
had  come  from  the  English  captain. 

He  raised  his  hand  to  tap  on  the  window,  but  she 
was  there,  and  had  recognized  him  through  his  dis- 
guise; the  sash  was  lifted  before  he  could  give  the 
signal,  and,  vaulting  to  the  sill,  he  was  by  her  side 
again. 

Their  talk  was  all  in  whispers ;  for,  in  such  troub- 
lous times,  no  risk  was  to  be  run  of  children's  prat- 
tling tongues. 

"Ah,  Jamie,  I  feared  me  it  wad  come  to  naught," 
sighed  Janet,  when  the  first  greetings  were  over. 
"But  I  have  to  thank  God  that  ye  didna  gie  your  life 
for  the  feckless  Prince." 

"Aye,  Janet,  we  are  not  in  fine  case,  but  we  maun 
hope  for  brighter  days;  and  you  and  the  bairns  are 
safe,"  answered  James,  picking  a  crumb  of  comfort 
from  the  forlorn  situation. 

"But  what  will  ye  do,  Jamie;  and  where  will  ye 
hide?"  queried  Janet,  thinking  less  of  the  lost  cause 
than  of  her  husband's  safety. 

"I  will  tak'  to  the  moors  and  hide  there,  till  the 
summons  comes  frae  the  Prince  for  the  gathering  of 
the  clans,  somewhere  in  the  Highlands,"  said  James, 
with  more  assurance  than  he  really  felt. 

"Ah!  Jamie,  canna  ye  let  it  alane?  The  Prince 
will  ne'er  gather  ye  but  to  the  grave.  The  English 
say  that  he  has  already  taen  ship  to  France.  They 
say  that  he  canna  bide  in  Scotland,  for  a  price  is  on 
his  head,  which  wad  mak'  mony  a  Highland  laird 
rich ;  and  there  will  surely  be  some  wha  will  gie  him 
owre  to  the  English." 


274  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

"I  tell  ye,  Janet,  Prince  Charlie  will  ne'er  be  gien 
up,  at  ony  price.  Whamever  he  trusts  will  be  true  to 
him;  for  he  has  that  bonnie  way  that  wins  a'  men  to 
love  him,"  said  James  stoutly. 

"He  doesna  win  a'  men  to  fight  for  him.  But  let 
us  leave  him  to  his  ain  devices,  and  tell  me,  Jamie, 
where  will  ye  gae  and  how  shall  I  ken  that  ye  are  safe 
and  well?  Ah!  it  is  but  a  sorry  business  to  be  at," 
said  Janet  sadly. 

"I  shall  bide,  for  the  nonce,  wi'  James  Jamieson; 
and  you  can  reach  me  by  seein'  Helen  Gunn.  She 
will  gae  back  and  forth  to  her  own  cot,  every  day, 
from  Jamieson's, "  answered  James. 

Then  they  fell  to  discussing  what  their  future  was 
to  be;  and,  though  it  was  cloudy  enough,  they  both 
kept  brave  hearts,  taking  comfort  in  the  thought  that 
they  were  spared  to  each  other,  and,  in  the  light  of 
this,  the  prospect  seemed  to  brighten.  It  was  a  time 
to  try  the  souls  of  men,  and  women  too,  but  the  trial 
brought  forth  power  of  endurance  and  hope  in  these 
two. 

The  merciless  crusade  of  Cumberland  against  all 
who  were  even  suspected  of  sympathy  with  the  lost 
cause,  including  defenseless  women  and  children, 
determined  John  and  Stoneywold  to  linger  in  the 
neighborhood,  and,  if  Janet  were  threatened,  to 
gather  the  tenantry  and  sell  their  lives  dearly  in  de- 
fense of  wife  and  children. 

But  Janet  had  so  many  friends  among  the  gentry  of 
the  shire,  of  both  political  creeds,  that  she  was  in  no 
danger;  and,  though  subjected  to  many  annoyances 
and  harsh  exactions,  was  not  in  peril  of  her  life. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  275 

The  regularity  of  Helen's  visits  to  Jamieson's  out- 
lying farm  drew  suspicion  upon  her;  and,  one  night, 
she  was  aware  that  she  was  followed  by  three  or  four 
soldiers.  They  might  suspect  as  they  pleased,  but 
they  were  greatly  mistaken  when  they  dreamed  of 
outwitting  a  girl  of  the  Lochgellie  band. 

Helen  was  not  many  rods  away  from  her  cot  before 
she  knew  that  they  were  tracking  her;  so,  instead  of 
turning  off  toward  Jamieson's,  she  kept  right  on  up 
the  Don  side  until  she  came  to  the  Ourie  Ford,  a 
doubtful  bit  of  water  to  cross  even  by  daylight,  but 
safe  for  her  in  the  darkest  night.  In  she  plunged, 
and,  as  the  men  broke  cover  and  ran  for  the  edge  of 
the  stream,  she  was  fairly  over  to  the  other  side,  and, 
picking  up  three  or  four  stones,  she  threw  them  in  the 
water,  giving  the  impression  that  she  was  still  floun- 
dering in  the  stream. 

The  men  leveled  their  carbines  and  fired  for  the 
sound;  Helen  screamed  and  threw  more  stones  into 
the  water,  and  again  the  shots  were  fired  at  the  rush- 
ing-Don.  She  sat  on  the  bank  groaning,  while  the 
men  debated  whether  they  should  ford  the  stream; 
at  last,  hand  in  hand,  they  filed  cautiously  into  the 
water.  Helen  sat  on  the  bank,  luring  them  on  by 
fainter  and  more  piteous  moans. 

About  midway,  the  ford,  which,  up  to  that  point, 
bears  up  stream,  takes  a  sharp  turn  downward;  and, 
just  at  the  angle,  there  is  a  deep  hole  with  a  whirling 
eddy,  whose  shivering  waters  give  the  ford  its  name 
of  "Ourie." 

Helen  waited  for  them  to  reach  this  "ourie  water"; 
on  they  came,  warily  at  first,  but  growing  bolder  as 


276  A    HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

the  ford  showed  no  sign  of  deepening,  and  enticed  by 
Helen's  fainter  groans.  Then  came  a  splash  and  a 
cry  for  help;  Helen's  laughter  rang  out  like  a  demon 
of  the  woods,  as  she  shouted,  "Ye  hae  followed  the 
Don  kelpie,  and  noo  she  has  ye  by  the  lugs"  ;  and,  as 
the  terrified  trio  struggled  back  to  the  shore,  leaving 
their  drowned  comrade  to  drift  down  the  stream,  they 
believed  it ;  in  which  belief  they  were  confirmed  when, 
on  their  way  back  to  the  Hall,  they  stopped  at  John 
Gunn's  cottage  and  found  Helen  fast  asleep  in  bed. 

But  Stoneywold  felt  that  he  could  no  longer  be  kept 
in  hiding  so  near  home,  without  exposing  others  to 
danger,  and  so  left  the  neighborhood  and  made  for 
the  wilds  of  Buchan,  with  John  Gunn  as  his  escort. 
Nell  went  to  the  Hall  as  Lady  Stoneywold' s  waiting 
maid,  and  Helen  followed  John  to  the  moorland, 
resuming  her  gypsy  garb  and  mode  of  life,  and  carry- 
ing letters  to  and  fro,  concealed  in  the  braids  of  her 
long  black  hair. 

These  were  stirring  days;  the  Prince,  in  woman's 
dress,  was  being  guided  by  secret  friends  from  place 
to  place,  living  the  life  of  a  hunted  hare;  and  scat- 
tered bands  of  his  followers  were  sharing  a  like  fate. 
Some  had  leagued  themselves  together  under  the 
name  of  "Caterans";  and  of  one  such  band  the 
famous  Ranald  More  was  leader.  Their  hiding-place 
was  a  sea  cave  in  the  rocky  shore  below  Peterhead, 
accessible  only  by  a  footpath  wide  enough  for  a  single 
person,  and  defended  by  those  who  would  die  to  a 
man  rather  than  surrender,  on  the  grim  terms  which 
Cumberland  offered,  "that  they  should  be  reserved 
for  the  pleasure  of  the  king."     What  this  meant,  the 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  277 

hapless  fate  of  those  who  threw  themselves  upon  his 
grace  bore  witness. 

Ranald  had  not  been  "out  with  the  Prince";  but 
the  merciless  conduct  of  Cumberland,  he  declared, 
alone  induced  him  to  take  command  of  these  men  ; 
for,  being  branded  for  slaughter,  they  were  fairly 
driven  to  this  mode  of  life. 

A  little  band  of  refugees  were  soon  gathered  under 
Stoneywold's  leadership,  who  led  a  roving  life,  mov- 
ing from  place  to  place  along  the  edge  of  the  moor- 
land, as  their  methods  of  subsistence  off  the  neighbor- 
ing farmers  brought  them   into  unpleasant  notoriety. 

It  was  a  life  of  constant  excitement  and  adventure, 
which  was  charming  to  John  Gunn,  and  not  without 
interest  for  Stoneywold. 

Brave,  cheerful,  and  inspiriting,  his  men  were 
devoted  to  the  Laird,  and  watched  over  his  safety 
with  a  jealous  care. 

Their  adventures  had  often  a  savor  of  fun,  which 
let  them  have  a  laugh  at  misfortune.  One  day,  on 
the  hill  of  Mormond,  the  little  band  had  seated  them- 
selves to  a  dinner,  which,  for  a  week  past,  had  been, 
with  them,  a  movable  feast,  owing  to  the  pressure  of 
pursuit.  They  were  scarce  seated  when  warning  was 
given  them  of  a  party  of  soldiers  coming  up  the 
hill. 

The  detachment  was  too  strong  for  them  to  think  of 
resistance,  so  they  betook  themselves  to  flight;  but, 
before  leaving,  John,  determined  that  his  haggis 
should  not  tickle  the  palates  of  the  foe,  upset  the  pot; 
the  stout  old  ram's  stomach  held  together,  and  down 
the  hill  rolled   the   steaming  pudding.     One  of   the 


278  A    HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

English  soldiers,  to  whom  "the  fair,  fat,  sonsie  face" 
of  haggis  was  a  stranger,  dexterously  caught  the  roll- 
ing ball  on  the  end  of  his  bayonet,  and  it  burst,  be- 
dewing him  and  his  comrades  with  its  hot  and  savory 
contents. 

"See  there,"  cried  John,  in  great  glee,  "even  hag- 
gis, God  bless  her,  can  charge  down  hill!" 

But  the  hunt  grew  hot,  and  this  little  band  was 
forced  to  disperse.  John  went  to  Ranald  More  and 
joined  his  band  of  Caterans;  Helen  returned  to 
Leddy  Janet,  and  passed  back  and  forth  to  the  refu- 
gees with  letters,  or  the  safer  missives  by  word  of 
mouth. 

Stoneywold  took  refuge  with  Allan  Graeme,  a  small 
farmer  living  on  the  edge  of  the  moorland ;  and,  don- 
ning the  dress  of  a  gillie,  worked  on  the  farm,  and 
slept  in  an  outhouse.  But  the  disguise  was  only  of 
the  outer  man,  and  he  soon  found  that  he  was 
watched,  and  must  seek  a  more  obscure  hiding-place 
than  even  an  outlying  farm.  So  he  betook  himself  to 
the  heart  of  the  moor,  to  the  hut  of  old  Davie  Gair,  a 
cobbler,  and,  if  all  tales  were  true,  a  poacher  when  his 
necessities  drove  him  thereto;  but  a  douce,  honest 
man,  when  he  had  enough  to  eat  and  drink. 

"And  wha  can  be  streectly  honest,  on  an  empty 
stomach?"  he  would  say. 

To  him  Stoneywold  applied,  "Can  ye  gie  me  shel- 
ter?" 

"That  I  can,"  answered  auld  Davie,  looking  his 
man  over,  and  wondering  why  such  as  he  should  be  in 
want  of  shelter;  but  too  discreet  to  ask  any  questions. 
"I  canna  thole  a  spierin'  man  or  a  claverin'  woman," 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  279 

thought  auld  Davie;  "and  I  maun  bide  by  my  ain 
rules." 

So  he  made  no  objection  when  Muir  proposed  to 
make  an  excavation  under  the  bed,  forming  a  burrow 
where  he  ran  to  cover,  whenever  any  stranger  ap- 
proached the  hut. 

"Aye,  the  rabbits  hae  their  burrows,  and  the  foxes 
their  holes;  and  the  one  are  a  sair  kittle  folk,  and  the 
ither  sair  fendy;  and  belike  this  braw  laddie  is  only 
followin'  oot  the  Scripture  'to  be  wise  as  a  serpent 
and  harmless  as  a  cushat.'  Time  will  show,"  said 
wise  auld  Davie. 

Muir  dared  not  go  abroad  by  day,  and  could  not 
endure  the  long-drawn  idleness,  and  so  set  himself  to 
learn  the  cobbler's  trade,  while  he  had  his  cracks 
with  auld  Davie;  and  to  such  good  purpose  did  he 
work  that  his  old  master  was  astonished,  and  said  to 
him  one  day: 

"Jeems,  my  man,  what  for  did  ye  no  tell  me  that 
ye  had  been  bred  a  souter?" 

"And  so  I  was,  freend,"  answered  Muir  gayly, 
"but,  to  tell  ye  God's  truth,  I  was  an  idle  loon, 
gey  weel-faured  and  owre  fond  o'  the  lassies;  so  I 
joined  the  Prince's  lads,  and  ye  see  what  is  come 
o't." 

"Ou,  aye,"  said  auld  Davie,  "and  that  is  the  bee 
in  your  bonnet,  laddie.  Aweel,  ye're  nane  the  waur 
for  that,  in  my  estimation.  I  hae  an  unco  kind  feel- 
in'  for  them  that  arena  come  by  their  ain  in  this 
warld;  for  I  am  ane  o'  that  ilk  mysel'.  I  was  made 
for  a  bonnier  life  than  to  cobble  in  a  muirland  hut, 
and  I  hae  a  fellow  feelin*  for  Prince  Charlie.     He  is 


2  So  A   HIGHLAND    CHRONICLE. 

a  bonnie  lad  by  a'  accounts.  Did  ye  see  him  wi' 
your  ain  e'en?" 

"That  I  did,"  answered  Muir  merrily.  "I  saw 
him  and  spoke  wi'  him,  and  stood  beside  him  at  Cul- 
loden." 

"Wow!  but  ye  were  in  luck,"  said  auld  Davie. 
"But  what  will  he  mak'  noo,  think  ye?" 

"He'll  mak'  sail  for  France,  by  the  first  fair  wind 
and  chance  that  befa's  him,"  answered  Muir. 

"And  what  will  ye  be  doin',  when  that  comes  to 
pass?"  asked  Davie.  "The  bonnie  Prince  winna  be 
makin'  aff  himsel'  and  leavin'  his  faithfu'  followers 
to  their  fate,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"Aweel,  he  has  a'  that  he  can  see  to,  in  securin*  a 
passage  for  himsel',"  said  Muir,  inclined  to  change 
the  subject.  "It  has  come  to  that  pass  where  ilka 
man  maun  tak'  tent  o'  himsel'." 

"Aweel,  Jeems, "  said  auld  Davie,  after  a  thought- 
ful pause,  "then  I  count  it  weel-nigh  as  puir  a  trade 
as  cobblin',  this  followin'  in  the  train  o'  Princes.  It 
is  like  marriage,  man;  it  leaves  ye  nae  chance  to  bet- 
ter yoursel'  whan  aince  ye  are  in  it.  It  is  a  feckless 
fox  that  has  but  ane  openin'  to  his  lair;  for  aftwhiles 
the  grand  question  in  this  life  is,  not  hoo  to  get  in, 
but  hoo  are  ye  to  get  oot." 

But  these  comfortable  cracks  with  auld  Davie  were 
not  enough  to  occupy  the  restless  spirit  of  Muir;  and, 
from  time  to  time,  he  made  excursions  into  the  neigh- 
borhood. One  day,  when  he  had  gone  over  to  visit 
John  Gunn  in  the  cave  of  Ranald  More,  he  had  gotten 
but  a  short  way  on  his  return,  when  a  stray  picket 
spied  him,  as  he  was  crossing  a  rough  bit  of  moorland, 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  28 1 

and  called  on  him  to  halt,  which  had  the  effect  of 
putting  Muir  to  his  best  speed ;  and,  as  the  soldier 
fired  a  signal  gun,  Muir,  making  over  the  hill,  ran 
toward  the  seashore  and  took  refuge  in  a  cliff  cave, 
until  the  friendly  shelter  cf  night  should  let  him  return 
in  safety  to  the  cobbler's  hut. 

A  heavy  rain  was  falling,  and  Muir  bethought  him 
that  it  might  be  easy  to  track  him,  on  the  soft  ground, 
to  his  lair  at  auld  Davie's;  so  he  took  out  his  cob- 
bler's tools  and  beguiled  the  tedium  of  the  long  after- 
noon by  reversing  the  heels  on  his  brogues;  and  spent 
the  time  right  merrily,  to  judge  by  his  smiling  face. 
When  it  was  fairly  dark,  he  set  out  to  walk  the  ten 
miles  from  the  shore  to  auld  Davie's  hut;  and  he 
found  it  a  weary  way  to  plod,  with  this  new  adjust- 
ment of  heel  and  toe;  and  the  joke,  over  which  he 
had  chuckled  in  the  afternoon,  was  rather  against  him 
when  he  was  putting  it  in  practice ;  but,  for  all  that, 
there  were  the  footmarks,  plain  as  day,  leading  away 
from  auld  Davie's  door. 

The  old  cobbler  chuckled  to  himself,  at  intervals, 
all  through  the  morning,  after  Muir  had  shown  him 
his  afternoon's  job;  and  he  went  out  more  than  once 
to  inspect  the  tracks. 

"It  be  a  braw  thing  to  gang  aboot  your  ain  business 
and  send  ither  folk  on  the  way  to  mind  theirs,  at  the 
same  time.  It  is  a  pity,  Jeems,  that  ye  canna  apply 
this  maist  excellent  preenciple  to  the  ither  parts  o'  a 
man  besides  his  heels.  Ye  can  tak'  a  bit  leather  and 
big  yoursel'  anither  pair  o'  brogues,  Jeems;  ye  maun 
let  that  pair  bide  as  they  are.  It  is  a  canty  thocht, 
and  they  may  prove  their  value  anither  time."     The 


282  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

old  man  could  remember  some  occasions  when  he 
himself  would  have  found  such  a  pair  of  brogues  not 
amiss.  "Let  them  bide,  Jeems;  it  is  uncanny  to 
meddle  wi'  what  has  proven  sic  a  providential  bless- 
in'  to  ye." 

So  James  set  himself  to  making  a  new  pair  of 
brogues. 

But  he  lived  the  life  of  a  hunted  animal;  and, 
when  Janet  sent  him  a  letter  telling  him  of  the  Prince's 
escape,  he  listened  to  her  urgent  appeal,  and  to  "Nor- 
oway  over  the  faem"  he  fled,  with  blind  old  Glen- 
bucket  and  Lord  Lewis  Gordon. 

The  night  before  he  sailed  Muir  bid  old  Davie 
good-by.  "I  winna  forget  ye,  Davie,  when  I  see 
better  days,  for  ye've  been  a  true  friend  to  me,"  said 
Muir,  grasping  the  horny  hand  of  the  old  cobbler. 

"And  I  winna  forget  ye,  Jeems,  my  man;  ye  hae 
whiled  awa'  mony  a  tedious  hour,  and  hae  gien  me  a 
hint  o'  things  outside  the  muir.  I'll  miss  ye, 
Jeems,"  and  the  old  cobbler  wrung  his  hand;  "but 
ye  hae  left  me  food  for  reflection,  and  the  toe-heeled 
brogues  for  an  hour  o'  need.  God  guard  ye,  lad- 
die;" and  he  stood  in  the  doorway  of  his  lonely  old 
hut  and  watched  James  stride  across  the  moor,  and 
out  of  sight,  in  the  misty  moonlight. 

Muir  betook  himself  to  Ranald  More's  cave.  It 
was  not  pleasant  to  leave  the  friendly  old  cobbler  on 
the  moor,  to  part  with  John  would  be  a  real  pain. 
He  tried  to  think  of  it  as  only  temporary. 

They  walked  up  and  down  the  beach,  far  on  toward 
midnight,  talking  of  all  the  many  things  they  had  in 
common.     Then  James  turning  to  him  said:   "John, 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  283 

ye  hae  been  to  me  as  a  friend  that  is  closer  than  a 
brother.  I  canna  gae  to  a  strange  land  leavin'  ye 
where  ye  are  now.  Promise  me,  John,  that  ye'll 
leave  the  Caterans. " 

"They  hae  gien  me  shelter,  my  Laird;  I  canna 
forget  that,"  said  John. 

"I  ken  that,  John;  but  it  is  the  old  story  over 
again.  Ye  were  forced  to  leave  the  Lochgellies  for 
Helen's  sake;  ye  maun  leave  the  Caterans  for  the 
same  guid  reason." 

"The  way  was  open  for  me  to  leave  the  Lochgel- 
lies; I  see  naught  for  it  but  to  bide  wi'  the  Caterans," 
replied  John. 

"Ye  maun  do  as  I  am  doin',  John;  ye  maun  emi- 
grate," said  Muir. 

"I  canna  frame  my  tongue  to  foreign  speech,  at 
my  time  o'  life,"  answered  John. 

"There  are  rich  lands  in  Virginia.  Gae  there  wi' 
Helen.  It  winna  be  for  lang.  When  the  breeze  has 
blown  a  bit,  we  can  be  back,  in  twa  years  or  sae.  I 
canna  gae,  John,  till  I  hae  your  word;  and  the  skiff 
is  waitin'  there  on  the  shingle,  ayont  that  point  o' 
rock,"  and  Stoneywold  waited. 

John  was  silent  for  a  few  moments. 

"I  will  leave  the  Caterans,  my  Laird,"  he  said; 
and  Muir  wrung  his  hand  hard,  and  went  down  the 
beach  to  the  skiff  that  was  waiting  to  take  him  on 
board  the  lugger. 

After  James  was  gone  Stoneywold  seemed,  to  Janet, 
haunted  with  his  presence;  the  house  would  echo,  in 
her  dreams,  to  his  step;  field  and  glen  were  peopled 
with  the  memory  of  their  rides  and  walks  together. 


284  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

These  were  busy  days,  when  she  had  to  undertake  the 
management  of  all  affairs  herself,  but  not  busy  enough 
to  let  her  forget;  and  the  very  fields  and  woods  grew 
lonely. 

It  was  lonelier  still  when  news  came  that  the  High 
Court  of  Judiciary  had  arraigned  the  Laird  of  Stoney- 
wold  for  treason  and  pronounced  judgment  of  banish- 
ment on  him. 

To  be  sure,  she  was  proud  to  hear  that  only  two 
witnesses  could  be  found  against  him,  and  their  testi- 
mony was  chiefly  to  the  effect  that  he  restrained  his 
men  from  violence  and  plunder,  which  the  Lord  Jus- 
tice said  was  more  to  the  credit  of  the  Laird  of 
Stoneywold  than  to  that  of  the  witness  for  the  Crown. 

"They  canna  even  condemn  him  wi'out  finding 
summat  to  his  credit,"  she  said. 

But  for  all  this,  his  banishment  emphasized  her 
lonely  condition,  and  she  made  up  her  mind  to  share 
his  exile. 

At  first,  she  had  purposed  to  put  John  in  charge,  as 
her  factor;  but  she  found  that  he  was  a  man  of  too 
much  mark  to  slip  quietly  back  into  his  old  place, 
without  some  reasonable  explanation  of  his  absence; 
and  hence  John,  in  accordance  with  his  promise  to 
Stoneywold,  went  with  his  wife  and  wean  to  Virginia. 
It  seemed  to  Janet  that  everyone  was  seeking  a  home 
in  other  lands ;  and  so  she  leased  the  estate  to  one 
of  the  old  tenants,  and  went  to  join  her  husband  in 
Sweden. 

As  she  rode  down  the  avenue  for  the  last  time  and 
looked  back  at  the  shaded  path  under  the  old  beach, 
where  she  had  come  down  to  meet  Jamie  that  night, 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  285 

and,  for  the  first  time,  had  lain  her  head  on  his 
breast,  and  felt  the  clasp  of  his  strong  arms  about 
her,  the  dear  old  life  and  its  precious  memories 
seemed  slipping  from  her,  as  the  dead  lose  their  hold 
on  life  and  its  nearest  ties;  and  her  heart  sank  within 
her  at  the  thought  of  the  unknown  life  before  her. 

"It  was  a  sair  price,"  she  thought,  "to  pay  for  sic 
an  uncertain  gain ;  which  after  all  wasna  gain,  but 
only  loss.  But,  gin  I  tell  that  to  Jamie,  he  will  say 
that  women  always  look  at  war  in  this  fashion. 
Aweel!  then  I  wish  that  Prince  Charlie  had  been 
blessed  wi'  a  canty  wife  to  counsel  him." 

Janet  found  her  wandering  hero  already  estab- 
lished, and  they  began  life  again,  in  a  foreign  land; 
and,  while  all  around  was  strange,  it  was  home  to 
them,  for  they  were  together;  and  to  Janet  it  was  a 
haven  of  rest,  after  the  stormy  two  years. 

With  a  brave  heart  and  strong  purpose  Muir  (or 
Jamieson  as  he  called  himself)  leased  an  estate,  and, 
by  his  energy  and  skill,  made  himself  a  man  of  mark 
in  the  land  of  his  adoption.  At  the  invitation  of  the 
King  of  Sweden  he  undertook  the  direction  of  some 
public  improvements,  which  won  him  great  honor  and 
a  patent  of  nobility  from  the  king. 

Janet  thoroughly  appreciated  these  honors  done  her 
husband,  and  yet,  as  she  said,  "The  sun  shines  fair  in 
Sweden,  but  it  hasna  the  blink  it  had  in  our  ain  coun- 
tree,  our  bonnie  Scotland,  of  all  lands  the  fairest  to 
my  e'en." 

Six  of  her  children  were  gone  to  the  land  o'  the 
leal,  and  her  son  James,  with  two  daughters  who  were 
left,    she   longed   to   educate   in    Scotland.     At   last 


286  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

James  consented  to  the  separation,  and,  in  the  spring 
of  1759,  Janet  returned  to  the  well-known  scenes  of 
her  native  land ;  and,  when  she  was  back  again,  her 
longing  grew  to  remain  and  live  and  die  in  Scot- 
land. 

She  busied  herself  not  only  with  her  children's  edu- 
cation, but  also  in  securing  permission  for  her  hus- 
band to  return.  After  three  years  of  diligent  effort 
she  was  rewarded  by  welcoming  him  home  again. 

For  more  than  fifteen  years  his  eyes  had  not  been 
gladdened  with  the  sight  of  the  banks  and  braes  of 
Don,  and  he  was  eager  as  a  child  to  set  out,  with  Janet, 
from  Edinburgh  for  Aberdeenshire. 

As  they  drew  nearer  to  the  old  home  they  rode 
along  in  silence.  James  missed,  in  thought,  that 
trusty  guide  of  his  youth  and  friend  of  his  riper  years, 
John  Gunn,  the  tried  and  true,  and  Janet  could  not 
banish  from  her  present  happiness  the  memory  of  the 
little,  tinkling  feet  that  had  merrily  trod  the  halls  of 
the  old  home,  who  were  now  resting  in  their  graves  in 
a  foreign  land. 

When  they  reached  Stoneywold  the  tenants  were 
out  in  force  to  welcome  back  the  "Laird  and  Leddy, " 
the  toddlin'  bairns  now  grown  to  be  braw  lads  and 
lasses;  but  there  were  other  bairns  to  take  their 
place. 

There  was  feasting  and  merry-making,  as  in  old 
times,  and  it  was  plain  to  see  that  the  Laird  and 
Leddy  had  not  been  forgotten,  as  the  years  had  flown. 
They  looked  on  the  tenants,  wondering  how  some  had 
grown  so  old ;  and  the  tenants  thought  how  changed 
the  young  Laird  and  Leddy  were. 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  287 

But  they  were  not  changed  at  heart;  for  the  very 
first  business  that  James  undertook  was  to  seek  out 
his  moorland  friends  and  care  for  them. 

For  auld  Davie  he  could  do  no  more  than  mark  his 
last  resting-place  by  a  simple  monument,  on  which 
was  carved  this  record:  "He  gave  shelter  and  food 
to  him  that  was  ready  to  perish."  As  he  stood  by 
the  stone,  James  wondered  what  had  become  of  the 
toe-heeled  brogues. 

Allan  Graeme,  too,  was  gone  to  his  grave,  ripe  as 
one  of  his  own  corn-shocks;  but  Stoneywold  took  his 
widow  and  five  children  home  with  him  and  put  them 
on  one  of  his  best  farms,  and  had  the  boys  taught 
trades,  and,  when  the  daughters  were  married,  the 
noble  old  Laird  gave  them  away  like  a  father. 

When  John  Gunn  heard  that  the  Laird  was  back, 
he  offered  himself  for  the  old  service  again ;  and,  as 
James  Jamieson,  the  name  which  had  served  his  mas- 
ter abroad,  he  came  to  the  old  place,  after  an  absence 
of  many  years.  His  hair  was  snow  white,  but  his 
form  was  erect,  his  step  firm  and  his  heart  warm  and 
true  as  when,  on  the  moorland,  he  followed  the  for- 
tunes of  his  Laird,  for  better  or  worse. 

For  nearly  twenty  years  James  and  Janet  lived  a 
quiet  life  that  was  like  the  still  waters  of  a  deep,  land- 
locked harbor,  where  the  ships  lie  at  anchor,  with 
their  sails  furled,  and  rock  with  an  easy  motion  on  the 
soft,  swelling  tide,  and  forget  that  they  have  breasted 
storms  and  scarce  escaped  shipwreck. 

After  James  had  been  gathered  to  his  fathers  in  the 
quiet  kirkyard,  in  Janet's  eyes  the  last  and  best  of 
the  Lairds  of  Stoneywold,  she  left  the  place  and  went 


288  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

to  live  in  Aberdeen ;  remembering  how  a  dowager 
Lady  of  Stoneywold  had  made  her  entrance  to  the 
house  uncomfortable,  she  determined  that  her  son's 
bride  should  come  there  the  undisputed  mistress  of 
Castlewood  Hall. 

She  took  Helen  Gunn  along  with  her,  John  having 
died  some  years  ago,  and  Nell  being  happily  married 
and  settled  on  one  of  the  farms  of  the  estate. 

There,  in  a  snug  lodging,  she  passes  a  peaceful  old 
age,  Helen  and  her  dog  Duchie  being  her  constant 
companions. 

On  one  side  of  the  ingle  sits  old  Lady  Stoneywold 
knitting  sedulously  on  a  stocking,  and  on  the  other  side 
is  Helen  hard  at  work  on  its  mate ;  bound  to  one  an- 
other by  the  tie  of  old  times  and  the  memory  of 
James  and  John.  Every  now  and  then  the  maid  is 
summoned  from  the  kitchen  to  take  up  the  stitches 
which  the  old  women  ever  and  anon  let  slip,  each 
too  proud  to  ask  help  from  the  other. 

Duchie  lies  at  their  feet,  except  when  she  is  before- 
hand with  one  of  them  and  gets  possession  of  one  of 
their  easy-chairs ;  in  which  case  she  snarls,  and  leaves 
them  to  find  another  seat. 

Their  dinner  is  more  often  regulated  to  suit  the 
capricious  taste  of  Duchie  than  to  cater  to  their  own 
appetite.  "It  is  really  all  the  enjoyment  in  life  which 
Duchie  has,"  Janet  would  say,  when  Helen  remon- 
strates. "We  have  our  knitting,  you  know,  and  our 
talk  of  old  times,  and  our  game  of  piquet,  while 
Duchie,  poor  thing,  has  only  her  dinner." 

Their  game  of  piquet  was  a  series  of  skirmishes; 
for,  though  Helen  had  been  taught  the  game  by  Janet, 


A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE.  289 

she  claimed  some  points  of  superior  knowledge,  which 
Janet  stoutly  contested. 

Janet  was  more  than  half  blind,  and  could  not  dis- 
tinguish diamonds  from  hearts,  or  clubs  from  spades; 
while  Helen,  who  saw  clearly  enough,  had  grown  very 
deaf,  and  must  needs  guess,  in  large  part,  what  was 
said  to  her.  So  they  blundered  along  and  fought  a 
battle  for  the  possession  of  almost  every  trick. 

"O  Helen,  Helen,  ye  are  sae  deaf  and  stupid," 
Janet  would  say,  when  her  patience  was  exhausted. 

"Yes,  my  Leddy,  it's  a  sair  pity  that  ye  canna  see," 
Helen  would  answer  at  random. 

"Aweel,  Helen,  it  is  a  sore  affliction  to  be  sae  deaf; 
blindness  is  a  sma'  matter  compared  wi'  it,  for  the 
loss  o'  the  eyes  leaves  the  mind  clear,  but  the  deaf  are 
always  sae  hard  o'  understandin',"  the  old  lady  would 
retort,  commiserating  herself  as  well  as  Helen. 

"Yes,  my  Leddy,  I  ken  it  is  my  trick,  as  ye  say," 
Helen  would  answer. 

"I  maun  bear  wi'  ye,  Helen,  for  auld  lang  syne," 
sighed  the  old  lady. 

"Yes,  my  Leddy,  ye  maun  follow  suit;  ye  are 
playin'  hearts  to  my  diamonds." 

Young  Roderick  McKenzie,  her  nephew,  came, 
from  time  to  time,  to  visit  Janet  and  hear  from  her 
lips  the  stirring  tales  of  old  times,  which  she  loved  to 
tell,  interspersed  with  keen  but  kindly  thrusts  at  the 
manners  of  the  present  day;  and  this  is  the  descrip- 
tion that  he  wrote  home  to  Ardross: 

"You  ask  me  what  Aunt  Janet  is  like.  I  wish  you 
could  see  her.  She  is  a  beautiful  old  lady;  her  teeth 
are  still  fresh  and  white  and  all  there,  her  lips  ruddy, 


290  A   HIGHLAND   CHRONICLE. 

her  cheeks  suffused  with  as  delicate  a  tint  as  when  she 
was  the  '  lily  and  rose  of  Ardross, '  and  with  the  same 
evenness  of  mind  that  has  accompanied  her  through 
all  her  trials.  Her  fair,  comely  face  is  encircled  in  a 
pure  white,  close  cap  with  a  frilled  border,  over  which 
was  a  rich  black  lace  cap,  of  the  form  shown  in  sev- 
eral of  Queen  Mary's  pictures;  she  wore  a  gray  satin 
gown  with  laced  stomacher  with  silver  buckles,  and 
deeply  frilled  hanging  sleeves  that  reach  to  the  elbow; 
and  over  her  arms  are  black  lace  mittens  leaving  the 
fingers  free  for  the  ornament  of  rings;  about  her 
shoulders  was  thrown  a  black  lace  scarf,  and  she  wore 
high-heeled  shoes  with  small,  square,  silver  buckles. 
From  her  waistband  was  suspended  a  portly  shagreen 
case,  and  on  the  opposite  side  was  a  wire  sheath  for 
her  knitting." 

Such  was  Janet  McKenzie  Muir,  the  Lady  of 
Stoneywold,  until  her  death  in  1805;  belonging  to  a 
past  century  in  dress  and  manners,  and  living  in  the 
past,  waiting  in  the  present,  and  hoping  for  the  future 


THE   END. 


